[dropcap]I[/dropcap] attended a function this weekend that was a first for me. It was a gender reveal party for my daughter and her hubby. No, not like the one Bruce Jenner held with Diane Sawyer, but one like lots of expecting couples have these days where the sex of the baby is a big secret until the party. With suspense building like scratching off your last million-dollar lottery ticket of the day, the gender is revealed by showing either pink or blue in some elaborate way. If you’re color-blind, these parties must be a real bummer.
You know, we didn’t have these gender reveal parties back in the ’80s when my daughters were born. I reckon it’s because we didn’t have fancy ultrasound equipment back then to determine the sex of the baby. Down in south Texas, if you wanted to know the sex, you’d have to hire a gypsy woman with a dead chicken. And dang if she wasn’t correct 50% of the time.
Well, in case you’re wonderin’, I’m gonna have another granddaughter to spoil in four months. That’s fine with me because, having two daughters and one granddaughter, I know a lot about raising girls. So far this year, my nephew had a baby girl as well as a fellow passenger on the infamous Party Bus Tour of 2016. And once my son-in-law becomes a daddy, I anticipate some phone calls from these three fellas asking for bits of parenting advice from this old pro. And what better source is there for sound advice? Lots of people have informed me that I’m full of it.
