Vanessa had her 20-week scan this morning and I'm delighted/relieved to say that all seems well.
The midwife-nurse-lady-woman asked us at the beginning if we wanted to know the sex, to which both of us immediately bellowed "NO!" (After all, surprises are few on the ground when you've been together for 13 years).
But we then spent the next quarter of an hour secretly and separately trying to find its willy.
I was convinced I'd located one about five minutes in, only to discover it was the baby's thigh bone.
And Vanessa said afterwards that she thought she'd seen its dangly objects. However, I reckon these were the very same off-spherical specimens which had earlier been introduced to us as its kidneys.
So, the truth is that we genuinely don't have a clue (even through midwife-nurse-lady-woman did call it a "he" at one point well into proceedings, before quickly insisting she didn't know).
And do we care what we get?
Absolutely not - we'll take a healthy anything (other than a mini-Alex Ferguson which I, personally, could never learn to love).
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