I was not disappointed when I found out that my third child was yet another female. Hooray! Once again I dodged the bullet of being sprayed during diaper changes and of having to scrub the bathroom floor after the growing child’s every use!
There was more I thought I was avoiding: what my mother calls “juvenile boy humor,” a.k.a. fart and burp jokes. Yet, apparently, at least in this house, that sort of entertaining is genderless. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to admonish my children, “Stop talking about burps and gas! You’re not boys!” (My children have yet to learn the word “fart,” thank you very much.)
They just grin and run off, only to make the same scenario play out another day.
On one such occasion, after reprimanding them yet again, I turned to my husband and shook my head in exasperation. He smiled and said:
“Step 1 complete. Now, I teach them to like football!”