Bun(s) in the oven!

Alright, so before you all get worked up thinking that a little one is on the way, let me explain. The hours that I work are from 3-11 pm, Saturday through Tuesday (and every other Wednesday). So needless to say, Patrice has a lot of alone time. While we were dating, she was still in school so I never really thought much about how she occupied her time, since she was so studious. But now school is over for our big-time college grad, so what in the world does she do all day?! Well, we now know the answer. I came home tonight and found out that she had gone to makemebabies.com--which is a website that makes good on its promise, as long as you upload a picture of Mom and Dad (If you are thinking about "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" here, you are hitting the nail on the head). Well, it's no secret that Patrice and I are really, really ridiculously good looking, so why would our child NOT come out looking as devilishly handsome as David Beckham himself?! How wrong we were. . .

Voila le result.

Somehow, inside the world of makemebabies.com, when the computer analyzed my hair color and Patrice's it concluded that not only would our son have red hair, but an embarrassing Comb-over of Fire, rivaling only that of a love child between Donald Trump and Carrot-top (Now, there's a mental image for you... you're welcome). Maybe his hair was scorched to that flamboyant auburn in the seventh circle of hell, which is the same place he got his smile. You can't tell me that kid is not going to climb out of his crib, walk down the stairs on his hands, get a knife from the kitchen, and butcher us in our sleep. Then again, maybe Patrice uploaded an image from "Rosemary's Baby" instead of me. . .

Then there's the issue of his three-year old face being attached to an infant's body. Don't get me wrong, I loved the movie "Willow" but I didn't want to bring him home with me.

Now for our precious daughter:

It's apparent that the computer didn't think much of our hair (again) and decided our baby would look better in a turban pulled from Bin Laden himself. Not to mention the hindu-esque robe she is wearing. Other than that, she is a little darling, worthy of our affection. . .

--and if the boy was really ours, we would love him too.

I guess.