William Alexander. The scourge of the west. Firstborn heir to the throne of Ramme. He will fell mighty enemies and wade through his adversaries; the proverbial scythe to the dry wheat field of this world. “Parvus Leo,” they will call him. The Little Lion. Legions will follow him, so strong will his charisma be. Women will fawn over him, professing unfailing love at the mere sight of him. His initials beget his unflappable, undeniable, glorious future.

He will come. He will conquer. He will pee his pants for several years until successfully potty trained.

Yes, we are having a boy. And if you cannot tell by his (slightly hyperbolic) introduction, I’m more than a little bit excited. At the onset of this whole ordeal, if you were to have asked me if I wanted a son or a daughter, I’d probably have picked the latter.

Thinking back on it, I’m not sure why.

Maybe it was my natural inclination to be attracted to anything cute and cuddly (I did marry Toni, after all). In hindsight, however, having a boy feels totally right. For one thing, it re-balances the gender levels in the household. As you all know, I already live with two girls, and one of them is a real bitch (ba-dum, ching!). So any additional injection of testosterone can only be perceived, from my perspective at least, as a good thing. Secondly, I won’t have to worry about figuring out adverse anatomy or any weird little girl traits that I was unaware of. Instead, I get an almost carbon copy of myself. As such, when he’s three years old, running around naked, and making car noises while holding onto a disconnected length of garden hose, I won’t be in the least bit concerned for his mental well being. I’ll be able to assure all those who stare, slack jawed in mute horror, that it’s perfectly normal. Hell, I turned out fine!

Really though. We're super excited. I know this took forever for me to get up here (we found out the gender 3 and half weeks ago; sue me), so I really, really mean it when I say I'll get another update up sooner rather than later.