Today we had an ultrasound done and got to see some foetal porn. They sent us home with two wide-open crotch shots and a face silhouetted in silver static. Nose at the same slope as Genevieve's. The crashing, sucking thunder of a four-chambered heart, visible on the monitor, quivering like a jellyfish. All systems go.

A little girl.

Girl on film. Girl in my lap. Woman on the table. Female dog at home in the livingroom. House full of estrogen and me, still, with the one and only Y chromosome. Why? It's always been this way. I am most at ease in a room full of females, most myself. I must admit I wanted a son, as I did the first time around, only more so since this will be my last child. Sake of variety, and also my greater familiarity with the experience of being a guy. Would have been nice. But being the father of a little girl is pretty freaking awesome, so it's all good.

It's those dowries that are going to kill me. I'd better start investing in goats and oxen.