[spouse stands before locked bathroom door]

[breee-op ]

"Har?"

[retching sounds]

"You OK?"

"No Tom."

"Can I help?"

[swish, pillow narrowly misses disgustingly healthy spouse] "No, I'm not OK. Get away from me."

"Do you feel like eating? I'm gonna get breakfast now "

[louder retching]

[spouse leaves, satisfying hunger taking precedence]

[swish, clatter of silverware, soft chatter]

"Any delicacy I can tempt you with today, Tom?"

[pretends to consider while eyeing Geron's plate lustfully]

"Hmmm, the usual I think, Neelix, but they also want a helping of whatever Geron's eating. It smells so good." [pats little rounded bulge]

[Talaxian arranges five covered plates in front of pilot]

"Thanks Neelix."

[spears some gagh delicately, crewmember joins pilot, avoids looking at gagh]

"Tom, how're you feeling?"

"Great. I didn't expect it to be so easy."

[takes in glowing face and spouse's absence] "What about Harry?"

[momentary twinge for absent husband] "He's not doing too well. He can't even smell food. Nothing stays down. He can barely make it through his duty shifts." [chews crispy fried peppers]

"The doc warned us about morning sickness. But Harry had to take it further. He has *all-day* sickness."

[crewmember looks at pilot in amazement as he dispatches two plates and begins to attack a third] "Can the EMH give him anything?"

[waving fork] "No, we're too much at risk."

"Risk?"

"Hmm, yes, you know being men and all. The doc doesn't want to give us any drugs that may affect the pregnancy." [chews down to melon rind and looks around for the rest of the melon]

[nods thoughtfully in agreement, delicately probes] "I heard you were carrying five?"

[conveniently forgetting medlab encounters] "Yeah, nothing to it. This is so easy. I don't why more men don't do this." [pokes food in mouth between making points] "I think everyone should have a few."

"But five, Tom?"

"No problem, Sam." [pushes datapad across the table] "I have it all worked out here. Their sleeping and feeding and changing, everything. You see, it's all about schedules. You just keep 'em on a schedule and everything works."

[Samantha Wildman studies datapad, chuckles]

"What?"

[laughs harder]

"What Sam?"

[giggles hysterically, tears streaking down face] "Schedules..." [continues laughing]

[pushes away from the table, pats him sympathetically] "You've *no* clue."

The End

Continued in Parenting 202