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Ahem! Fetal update: Pig number three is a boy. Miles is delighted; Rowan is bearing up very graciously, all things considered, and has already started patting my tummy and saying “How’s my little brother doing in there?”
Also relevant: pig number three is a terrifying mutant alien-child. The tech snapped this photo in great delight, saying “Oh look, it’s opening its mouth, and you can see the lens of the eye!” “That’s horrific”, I pointed out, and she giggled nervously. If I hadn’t just watched three seasons of The X-Files, thus priming myself against existential ghastliness, I probably would have leaped from the table and set fire to my own stomach.
I like to think the baby was saying “Hi Mummy! I wave my arm-stubs in a friendly fashion as my lone eyeball devours your soul!”
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair: