She may be a May Baby

   Okay, "may" probably isn't the right word, but the title sounds much more clever this way. We're still waiting for baby to come. I accidentally let the countdown run past zero, and was pleasently surprised that there was no magnetic surge pulling aircraft down out of the sky (if you don't understand, you really should be watching 'Lost'). Now it should display about how late we are.
   Back to May Babies, I did a google search for "May Baby" and the 3rd result listed was from the Eclectic Medical Journal. It looked interesting, so I read on and found this little gem. I wonder if babies really understand more than they let on...

An Infantile Conversation
   When the May baby and the June baby had got well acquainted they exchanged confidences. "My milk comes from a certified cow," said the May baby.
   "So does mine," said the June baby.
   "It is milked by a man in a white suit, with sterilized hands, through absorbent cotton, and kept at a temperature of 45°."
   "So is mine."
   "It is brought to me in a prophylactic wagon drawn by modified horses."
   "So is mine."
   "Then how in thunder do you manage to be so fat and well?"
   The June baby winked slyly. "I chew old paper and the corners of the rugs, anything I can find that is dirty, and in that way I manage to maintain the bacterial balance that is essential to health," he said, chuckling.
   The May baby laughed long and loud. "So do I," said he.
   The mammas heard the goo gooing, but they assigned to it only the usual fantastic significance. It was just as well.