It's a boy, Mrs Walker, it's a boy!

Not wishing to tempt fate by using the immortal opening lines of The Who's Tommy (after all, despite being a pinball wizard young Tommy Walker was deaf, dumb and blind of course) but it neatly sums up in as rock 'n' roll a way that I can the latest news...it is indeed a boy.

It's funny, we were utterly convinced this was the case, despite any actual evidence to support it, beyond a lot of old wives tales about morning sickness (absence of) and the last doctor who examined the missus syaing the babay seemed "rather large" - a claim totally refuted by the ultrasound-wielding quack who did the honours this morning and said Junior was aboslutely standard size.

So...it's a boy. That means tough times during the 'terrible twos', no moments of peace and quiet while he hyperactively tears the house apart, incessant video games, a need to stay fit for garden/park sports well into my 50s...however, once he reaches his teens at least we'll probably start to reap the benefits of not worrying ourselves to death every time he goes out of the house....

Now the gender is determined, it will soon be time to begin horse trading over names. I've already laid down the law that I want him to have three first names, like a lot of my old cricket heroes used to have. Beyond that, all bets are off.