Baby C's room is a sea of itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny yellow and green onesies. We haven't found out whether it's a boy or a girl, so we've taken to calling it "the kid", which horrifies both future grandmothers. I have promised myself that we will not bring the kid home without a real name, but selecting a handle has proven to be more difficult than we anticipated.
Greg came home from his business trip on Sunday determined to nail things down. "We've got to settle on our final names now - before the hospital."
Our previous plan had been to meet the kid and see if one of the possibilities seemed right - so Greg's new-found urgency raised my suspicions. He finally confessed that numerous colleagues had told him that he would lose all leverage over name selection once we entered the hospital doors. That made me laugh.
In my opinion, he lost any leverage with my first stretch mark. But it's cute that he still thinks he has some, right?