Baby Never Acts Wild, Very Low-Key on the Profile

Monday (today), we will have an ultrasound to find out if our little critter will be a boy or a girl. This will give us a head start on indoctrinating this kid on its gender role. Just kidding. If anything, we will reverse-indoctrinate, meaning if it’s a boy, we’ll expose him to dolls, things that are pink, and soft emotions. If it’s a girl: trucks, video games, discreet scratching, etc. Jameelah has been very excited about this ultrasound. Mainly because this baby has not been doing much. “Boring!” she says, “it’s so boring! I wish it would kick or do a backflip or something!”

“You should sing to the baby,” she said one day. She’s been reading up on all sorts of research about how babies can recognize and respond to their parents’ voices and other noises if they’re exposed to them while in the womb. I’ve been trying to be accommodating, but somehow, it just seems silly to be talking or singing to someone’s stomach. “Hey,” I said one day at her request, “hey little critter. What’s new in there? How are you hanging? Getting nutrients from your mommy, growing and stuff? You got like two arms now? You’re developing your hypothalamus gland or something?—You know what, I can’t do this. I’ll talk to the baby when it comes out.”

It is not always fun being pregnant. Jameelah has been having heartburn and a weird leg pain. But the worse seems to be when nothing is happening. It must feel so surreal, carrying a life, and having no sign of it. She was looking sad one day, so I thought I would sing to the baby to cheer her up. He eyes lit up and she broke into a smile.

“What are you going to sing?” she asked. I thought about it for a moment. “I know!” I said, “No Diggity!” “Uh-uh,” she said, “you’re not singing No Diggity to the baby! Sing a lullaby.”

This is my kid we’re talking about, and No Diggity is one of the best songs ever written, ever. This baby is going to be exposed to good music, like the Zombies and Credence Clearwater and Blackstreet. It’s not going to listen to the crap that kids listen to these days: auto-tuned Hip-Hop/Pop and breathy women who sing songs with whimsical lyrics that are then used for commercials. Seriously, if I see one more car or gadget commercial where a woman sings with a breathy voice some song about bumblebees or something, I will seriously lose it. Like this irritating “Prius for everyone” commercial, where the annoying woman is all like “let’s hum, hum, hum, hum, a Prius for everyone.” It makes me want to punch, punch, punch, punch someone in the pancreas.

But that is neither here nor there. There is no use arguing with a pregnant woman, so I started singing one of the only few lullabies I know, “All the Pretty Little Horses.”

“Wait,” she said, “lay your head on my lap so you’re closer.” She was sitting on the couch. I laid my head down, one inch from her stomach, and started singing. “Hush-a-bye/don’t you cry/go to sleepy little baby/when you wake/you shall have/all the pretty little horses.” It felt silly at first, but it was a lot less weird than talking to the baby. I finished the song and looked up; Jameelah was beaming. I turned back to the baby and started the next song. I started imaging my unborn child in its cozy home, hearing the soothing, comforting, maybe slightly muffled tone of its father's singing:

“Shorty get down, good Lord/Baby got ‘em open all over town/strictly biz she don’t play around/cover much ground/got game by the pound…” Jameelah started laughing. “I can’t get her out of my mind (wow)/I think about the girl all the time (wow wow)…”

I finished the rest of No Diggity (“You’re blowing my mind/maybe in time/baby, I can get you in my ride”), and I swear the kid kicked me in the head. OK, it didn’t. Seriously, this baby is kind of boring. Hopefully it’s developing its hypothalamus gland, or whatever part of the brain that controls music appreciation. I’m already lining up songs to cover for the post-ultrasound concert, and it will include some Vietnamese traditional lullabies, classic Mexican love songs from Trio Los Panchos, and Juvenile’s Back Dat Azz Up.


  1. *snorts with laughter*

    Damn it, I just inhaled some Cheetos! This made my day!!!

  2. *laid to rest* What a great start to Monday! :D

  3. Lol...I'm just thinking about Huy and his wife rapping Back That Thing Up to their kid..oh my! Anyways,it's great that they sing to the baby.Supposedly,music calms the baby and the expectant mom.It also stimulate the baby's mind.

    1. May I also add some tidbits about the baby? Hmmmm....Idk..nothing may 100 percent in telling the sex of a kid other than an aminosenthesis,but the old wise tale is that a slower moving baby may indicate a girl baby while an active one may be a boy,but I wouldn't count on that method. Ironically, my brother was moving like crazy in moms belly while my sister and me were doing to much of nothing in there.That was what she told us.

  4. Huy...boo-boo...you're going to be the death of us.

  5. On. The. Floor. Dead. I haven't hollered like that in some time


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