Today I took Catherina into town for her ultrasound. What a hoot!

(If you've missed the Catherina saga, you can catch up starting here. It's a long saga, but continuing, so worth a look back if you're thinking you'd like to follow along.)

First, the gaggle of preggos swarming all over the place gave me a buzz that must have been some sort of hormonal contact high ... heady stuff for a post-menapausal woman of fifty-five.

Then, there was the scan itself. At twenty-two weeks, there's a lot to see in there: head, tummy, tiny beating heart, clear-as-a-bell spinal column. I'd not had an ultrasound when I was pregnant, so my experience has been limited to photos taken at however many weeks ... grainy, blurry and static.

This was something else!

At one point, we could see a tiny upraised fist, as if the little person wanted to be sure we were paying attention.

"Hey, you all out there! I'm here and I'm proud!"

Already a cooperative child, the baby posed exactly right for the doctor to get good look at a the privates, and like males of all ages, apparently, the baby proudly displayed his very obvious (when you know what you're looking at) boy bit.

Yep, it's a penis alright. Even I could tell that.

Catherina had been hoping for a girl, but she's pretty much already over any pangs of disappointment she may have felt when that little willy made its appearance.

The baby looks fine and healthy, and is due in June.