Okay.

Can you all walk very carefully around my wife please? Think good thoughts and don't do anything upsetting. I mean, I know Moira can look after herself and I'm not so worried about that, although if anyone upsets her I'll still do bad things and no one wants that.

But there's a problem. The problem is that the baby's telekinetic. Right now. Yes, right now. I watched her launch a bowl of ice cream halfway across the living room and she was snickering in the womb about it. Snickering. In the womb.

The baby is telekinetic and she already has a sense of humor. Oh God. Someone wake me up in eighteen years. I'm not ready for this. A telekinetic toddler. Oh God the baby-proofing required. I need a drink.

And a shotgun. Why don't I have a shotgun yet?

Ow.

I think I'd better stay out of a certain large room downstairs for a few days. My back is not at all happy with me today, although at least this afternoon I can walk without too much difficulty. My loving and tender-hearted wife was making fun of all the whimpering I was doing this morning. (Yes, you were, Moira, don't deny it.) And my bird was laughing at me.

I think far too many of the women in my life enjoy my pain.