Last week, residents of several New Hampshire towns were startled by a blast that rattled homes and could be heard for miles. Windows cracked. Objects fell from shelves. Foundations cracked.
Earthquake? That’s what many suspected.
But no. Gender reveal party.
A man detonates 80 pounds of Tannerite, an over-the-counter, highly explosive substance typically used for firearms practice in order to indicate to his friends and family that his future progeny will be a boy.
Also that his father is an idiot.
Tannerite sells a gender-reveal “target” that contains just 1 pound of the explosive, along with pink or blue chalk powder.
Shoot the target. Reveal the gender.
Or purchase 80 times as much and damage homes for miles around.
Could we please bring an end to gender reveal parties, at least when they involve explosives and fire? Could we stop being extra special stupid when it comes to revealing the sex of our future children?
Last month, two people died after a plane involved in a gender-reveal stunt crashed into water. In February, a 28-year-old New York man was killed when a device he was building for his baby’s gender-reveal party exploded. In 2019, a soon-to-be grandmother died in Iowa when a gender-reveal device exploded and sent shrapnel flying. That same year, an airplane crashed in Texas after the pilot dumped about 350 gallons of pink water.
Pyrotechnic gender reveals also have sparked massive, deadly wildfires that have consumed tens of thousands of acres of forest and killed firefighters.
It’s getting ridiculous.
And I get it. These parents desperately need the attention that these increasingly Instagrammable-worthy moments provide. Just imagine the number of likes and little heart emojis that one could fleetingly enjoy for a day or two with their photo of a blue or pink explosion before being replaced by someone else’s maple glazed pork chop or tanned feet propped up on the beach.
This stuff matters. I know.
Or maybe do what Elysha and I did and don’t find out the sex before your baby is actually born. Allow that moment of birth to be a surprise.
I cannot recommend it enough.
As Elysha once said, you don’t get many chances to experience a true, life altering surprise in this life. Discovering the sex of your child is one of them, so make it last. Don’t find out the sex of your baby from some doctor or ultrasound technician months before. Wait. Wonder. Speculate. Make your friends and family crazy. Be patient. Delay gratification for once in your life.
Patience is an eroding skill these days. The ability to delay gratification is becoming harder and harder for many people.
But you’re better than that. You’re better than those people who damage homes because they can’t wait six months to tell their loved ones that it’s a boy.
Kick it old school. Wait until the moment that baby emerges into the world for the first time to discover the sex.
Years later, I can still hear the doctors saying, “It’s a girl” and “It’s a boy.” I can still remember those moments with perfect clarity. Moments I’ll never forget. Moments well worth the wait.
Moments that didn’t include pink or blue cakes, prop planes, or shrapnel.
Also, can we please acknowledge what these gender reveal parties really are (besides a desperate, cloying attempt at meaningless attention)?
Sex reveal parties.
Your pink or blue earthquake is only revealing the sex of your baby.
Your child will reveal their gender to you at a much later date.