I am certain my last baby will be another boy. Which is fine, although it does narrow my chances of being able to legitimately stockpile feminine trinkets ‘to pass on’. Any cool stuff I do have that is worth saving will have to go to some horrid daughters-in-law who, I tell you now, I will Not Like. It is the way of the in-law relationship. It is destined to be a little uncomfortable. They won’t be good enough, they won’t cook well enough, I will find them a bit annoying, and young and thin and I will roll my eyes and sigh when they are not looking. Probably.
But my point is that I am expecting to have another boy in January, and I have run out of names. So I am scratching the bottom of the moniker-barrel, so to speak. Here is a list of possibles:
Here I run out. And they all sound a little wet and dribbly, anyway. This new baby is DOOMED.