I had a very sweet conversation with my three boys in the car this morning. Reminding them that we would likely learn the gender of our baby today, I inquired which they thought it would be — a boy, or a girl. (Matt had already asked them last night whether they thought it would be a mammal or a reptile, which I didn’t find all that funny.) Two boys were rooting for the home team, “A boy, a boy!” The third said thoughtfully, “We already have a lot of boys. Maybe another girl would be good.” At which point Mary chimed in “Grill, grill!” (That’s how she says girl at the moment.)
“Why does Mary want it to be a girl?” one of the boys wondered.
“Well, she’d like to have a sister, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Maybe it should be a girl.”
And that quickly, everyone was on Mary’s team. It felt kind of tender that my young boys would be sensitive to someone else’s feelings, and I said a quick prayer of thanks for the wisdom to marry a kind, sensitive man. Is kindness learned or inherited? Both, I think.
They went to school. She went to a friend’s house. I went to the ultrasound.
It’s a boy.
Hopefully, another kind, sensitive one.