Unsolicited advice, aaargh

There are more of them now – advice on how to bring up my kid; advice about my pregnancy. Again.

Suddenly, everyone is an early childhood development expert, everyone is my OB-GYNE, everyone is an expert on my health (I shouldn’t drink coffee. I shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t do that. I’m not even supposed to watch horror movies. Duh).

The worst thing is, everyone’s hand has transformed into some ultrasound probe like some weird cyber-alien race straight from a Doctor Who episode.

Touch the tummy of the mommy!

Poke the belly of the preggy!

AD-VICE! AD-VICE! AD-VAAAAAYSS!

Doctor! Doctor, specifically the 10th incarnation, David Tennant! Take me to your TARDIS and let’s teleport to another planet! And another time!
(Obviously, I’ve been watching too many Doctor Who episodes these days. If only we could EX-TER-MI-NATE! EX-TER-MI-NATE! Like the Daleks.)

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