You waddle out the car, one hand on your back and the other on your belly, already tired of today. Being eight months pregnant ain’t no joke, and if one more person rubs your stomach without asking, you might just start swinging.

Von, on the other hand, is moving like this his birthday party. He hops out the driver’s seat, chains glistening, grinning ear to ear like he the one carrying this baby. “Damn, you slow as hell,” he teases, reaching over to “help” you out the car but really just grabbing your belly and laughing.

You slap his hand away. “Move, boy. Ain’t nobody tell you to get me pregnant.”

Von bursts out laughing, throwing his head back. “Ain’t nobody tell you to let me! You was actin’ like you wanted twins the way you was—”

“VON, SHUT UP.”

He dodges when you swing at him, still laughing as y’all make your way toward the backyard, where the party is already set up. Your family and his family are deep, the speakers blasting Chicago drill and the smell of barbecue in the air.

As soon as y’all step inside, your aunties rush over like the feds.

“Ouuuu, look at her belly! You ‘bout to pop, girl!”

“Von, you still stressin’ my niece out?”

Von, already grabbing a plate like he ain’t just get here, looks up and smirks. “Man, she stressin’ me out. Y’all don’t know what I go through at home.” Your momma comes over, clapping her hands. “Aight, y’all! It’s time! Everybody gather round!”

Von jumps up immediately. “Ayy, let’s get it!”

You waddle over to the middle of the yard, where there’s a big-ass black balloon with “Boy or Girl?” written on it. Von’s standing next to you, bouncing on his feet like a little kid.

Your best friend hands y’all a pin. “Okay, on the count of three, y’all pop it together”. The whole family starts counting down. “Three… two… one—”

POP!

Blue confetti EXPLODES into the air.

Von freezes for half a second—then he LOSES it.

“OHHHHHH, IT’S A BOY! LET’S GOOOOOO!”

He starts jumping around like he just won the NBA finals.

“STOP PLAYIN’ WITH ME! I TOLD Y’ALL IT WAS A BOY!”