There is still no youngster in our house, unless you count the stubborn one in utero, which you shouldn't, because frankly the kid could use a little incentive to make a public appearance.

We went and visited some midwives yesterday. Midwives are health professionals specializing in pregnancy and childbirth who market their services to the wheat-germ-and-tempeh set. Their office is painted soothing colours but does not smell of incense, except for what drifts in attached to the clothing of the clientele.

These midwives explained that Safety's heart is still beating as it should, that Kate's vital signs are looking positive, and that Safety is at "minus two station."

This means that Safety will be born in two minutes.

...

Apparently these midwives aren't above the odd tall tale. Oh well. Live and learn, we suppose.

That is all for now. Namaste.

("Namaste" is what people who are into yoga and tempeh and midwifery say to each other when their legs get tired and they want to get up off the floor and go watch Relic Hunter.)