Last night, Son-Three yells from the kitchen: "Just what I want to see when I'm trying to decide what to have for a snack: a fetus!"
Technically it's not a fetus, but an ultrasound picture held on the refrigerator by a magnet. And it's not a picture of just any fetus, but a fetus with my youngest sister's nose or a fetus who looks just like my brother-in-law, depending on which side of the family you ask. It is, in short, a baby whose expected arrival in late summer is eagerly awaited not only by Youngest Sister and her husband but by the many people who love them.
Even Son-Three, who is sometimes relentlessly, dangerously adolescent, is excited. Son-Three happens, by sheer coincidence, to share a real-life name with Youngest Sister's Husband*. This afternoon, he says to me, "Mom, if it's a boy do you think they'll name it after me?"
*Lou B. of the Masked Mom Comment Hall of Fame**
**There is no Masked Mom Comment Hall of Fame, but if there were you can bet your butt he'd be in it.
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