Today a lady came into my office. On her way out, she asked about my shower last weekend. She didn’t make it. She said, “I prefer to wait until after the babies are born to buy presents because, sometimes, these things, they backfire.”
She went on to tell me a story about a former boss (years ago) whose wife was pregnant. He wanted a boy. Badly. Didn’t want a girl at all. The ultrasound said it was a boy. It turned out to be a girl.
I pulled up a chat window where the woman couldn’t see and typed the following to my friend, Amanda.
Rita: There’s a lady in my office telling a very long and involved story about how someone’s ultrasound was wrong.
a verrrrry loooooong and involved story
Amanda: Heh, and I’ll bet she’s SURE you are just DYING to hear it.
Rita: Amanda, really. This story is still going! “nothing but little blue boy clothes — football, baseball, you name it, it was there”
Amanda: And it’s happy, riiiight? Not some dire warning of tragedy to come?
Rita: She’s explaining why she didn’t buy me a shower gift because “sometimes things backfire”
Rita: “Oh but don’t you worry. You’re having a girl. The way you’re carrying (awkward hand motion) … They say … More of the … Bigger bellies … “
Rita: This is just painful.
Rita: I can’t wait to be able to laugh.
Wow. Just … wow.