It’s time I outed us: we’re pregnant. Or Sophie’s pregnant. I’m just getting fat. Between us, we’re going to have a baby in September.
I can’t tell you how happy I am about this. But I can tell you this funny story! When it was time for Sophie to go to the doctor and find out the baby’s sex, she was in Australia, but I was still in New York. (There’s a long, very TMI story about why I wasn’t there that only barely redeems me from being a crap husband/father. Anyway.) As soon as she found out, she texted me the result, as follows: “it’s a boy — a boy with a willy!”
It’s not every woman who would make a Blackadder reference at a time like that. It’s not every woman who could.
In a much-much-less-important but still-worth-mentioning development, I won’t be able to make it to WorldCon this year. I wish I could, but the baby is actually due during WorldCon. So I’ll have to deputize someone else to pass on the Campbell tiara.
It’s especially awkward because The Magician King is up for a Hu^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H no wait, scratch that last part. Not a problem.
So to recap: after two daughters (currently 7 and 1 respectively) I will soon have a son, and will probably have to rethink everything I thought I knew about parenting. Which wasn’t much, but still.
Also, naming rights are still available. I take PayPal.