Overly high expectations

My mum has it, who in November 1989 went to the protest march with a baby bump, believing she wouldn't give birth because of it. My dad has it, who was convinced I'd be a boy right up until my shoulders appeared. And I have it too, when I look forward to the post-revolutionary world being as all-inclusive as my mother's womb. I'll end up about as satisfied as the ambulance driver who took us through the crowded streets. In an era of unlimited possibilities, the main threat is unlimited disappointment – but you can take it in your stride, even if you're not the sporty type!