I have an odd and completely stupid talent. I can predict whether a baby will be a boy or a girl, with frighteningly good accuracy. There it is. Is it my next career–probably not. Will I join the circus as a sideshow–unlikely, but with all the war and strife in the world, I get my kicks where I can.

So, my latest prediction is Kate Middleton. I think it’s a girl. I will let you in on my non-scientific method, based on nothing scientific, except my personal experience. When I was pregnant with Jake, I looked amazing, like a Victoria Secret model married to a much prettier version of myself. I wish I really looked in real life, like I looked when I was pregnant with Jake. When I was pregnant with Ally, I looked like a frat boy on a Saturday morning, married to Ann Coulter’s soul, and the Scream painting face. I was a hot mess. That is the data I have based my psychic talent of being able to guess what flavor a baby will be. Ta-da. Thing is, it almost always works.

So, Kate, you can paint the nursery pink. Make way, Harper Beckham, there’s going to be a new girl in town.