Birth Order

Originally, my parents wanted a boy and a girl. Enter me, so they changed it to girl and a boy. Enter my sister. So then they wanted two.

That's how many I want. Just two. I don't care what they are, and what order they come in. But if God's willing to throw me a bone, I will take one of each, the boy first so he protects his little sister and later on she can date his friends. And they will be Rhodes Scholars. And ridiculously good looking. And sweet and nice and adore their mother. And not need braces. And athletic. Is that pushing it? Maybe just a little?

Anyway, two. And when my ex and I talked about kids, he thought that was a good number. Two is just right. One would be a spoiled brat. Three you have the poor left-out middle kid, they out number you, plus I have an aversion to odd numbers. And 4+ was just too many if he wanted me to remain somewhat sane while rearing them.

But once he was being ornery and dared to challenge the plan. What happens if the girl come first? Or two of the same?
"Well, then we have two. It's not like I'm going to love them any less. I have a girl and boy, great. Two boys, you still have to potty train them both (and for god's sake, teach them to put the seat down!), and two girls means lots of pink! It doesn't matter. I just want to have a family."

"Oh ok." But then he opened his mouth again. And he said he hoped we got two boys if we have two of the same. Because "two girls would be, just, god..." here he actually shuddered, horrified at the thought.

"Hey! We turn out just FINE."
"Oh, right... you have a sister..."
"Yeah. How's that foot taste mister?"