h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Is well on its way, having passed the first trimester.

It is already a he or a she, having been one or the other since the genes combined, but we have not yet observed which, and so it is still an it. We observed that it looked like a little pistachio at 4 weeks, and so Pistachio is its name. When it is no longer an it, it will have a proper name.

Yesterday my wife went in for a checkup, and Pistachio was displayed on the sonar screen. It is an attention whore who put on a dance and magic show (often disappearing completely), and would not be still to be photographed. The one photo the doctor managed to capture is still very blurred.

Well done, Blatherskite and Mrs Mugwump! Pistachio *is* a proper name, unless I am much mistaken. I trust all will continue smoothly: keep us in touch!

Pattern-chaser

"Who cares, wins"

I can't seem to talk the wife into keeping Pistachio as a middle name.

First name then:

Pistachio Macadamia Mugwump

Sound pretty distinguished to me.

Pattern-chaser

"Who cares, wins"

P.s. my good wishes still apply, even if Mrs Mugwump has no taste in names!

Congratulations, Blatherskite and the Missus! As official Keeper of Pistachios, I officially really dig your name choice!


GTB

Through the magic of science we were able to open the box on our personal Schroedinger's Cat (who is neither feline nor belonging to a Schroedinger) and determined that our Mugwump is a girl. This was done in rather disturbing fashion, as the technician drew an arrow on screen which pointed to her determining feature in a manner Mrs. Mugwump and I are not very comfortable with. Our families have seen the other screen prints of little Natalie Mugwump, but when it comes to the sex they simply have to take us at our word.

Congrats BtM. You realize that daughters are God's punishment for us being Men?

No doubt. I'm already planning ahead for the teen years. Picture this... young man arrives at the door. I smile and open the door for him. "She'll be ready in a minute," I say, as I invite him to the living room to wait. A disassembled Colt model 1911A is spread out on a towel on the coffee table. I sit down in front of it and busy my hands with cleaning implements and gun oil while saying things like, "So, where are you two going tonight?", and, "You are going to have her home by ten, understand?"

If the guy is particularly slimy, I can always break out the, "I've already done time in prison, and I'm not afraid to go back," line.

Sounds like a good plan. But might I suggest a DE .50? There is just something about looking down the cavern they call a barrel of a DE that just gives people shivers.