Anyhoo, I've learned many things these past few months. The first thing I learned is that there is no stork - that story is complete crap. Or maybe I'm the stork...I'm not sure anymore.
The most recent thing I've been taught is that there are dozens, nay, several billion different methods and apparati for carrying a baby. I thought the Swedes, with their Baby Bjorn (it's BJorn, dammit, not BYorn. ENGLISH, people!) were the pacesetters in this industry, but it turns out they're not so great, those gigantic, blond bastards. Aside for the standard B-Giorn there are pouches, and slings, and wheelbarrows that can be wrapped around you, and chairs that can be clamped, via titanium bolts, into your spine. Evidently one is supposed to have a variety to offer your child, because certainly a pygmy who can't see past its nose can determine that a sling is better for its itty bitty spine. And in its place I'm supposed to make a decision about this? I can't even decide if Fetus is a boy or girl. Sure, science tells me that the decision's already made, but it also says that it's natural for babies to pass through vaginas. Does that sound like the sort of thing right-thinking people accept? No, that sounds like some crazy witch-doctor shit.
So we're copping out, Wife and I. We're getting the pu-pu platter (haha! Chinese food is funny!), and going with the Swedes, and the hippies, and the Japanese. Because nothing is too good for Fetus, except college.