About two months ago Joe had a dream.
He actually remembered his dream.
(He never remembers dreams.)
He dreamed that he met our baby, except our baby was older –– perhaps six or seven years old.
She was a girl.
He said she was beautiful.
And that was that. From that moment on, it was a she. He was convinced of it.
When we went to Myrtle Beach, S.C. for Thanksgiving, we walked into a photo booth on a beach boardwalk — the kind that morphs two faces into a baby — and because of Joe’s premonition, we forked over $5 and selected girl.
We all laughed so hard when the machine spit out an androgynous child with a crop of brunette hair.
I had water.