Who's the daddy? Never mind that - who's the mummy?

I'm a selfish so-and-so. I like to sleep at night, do mostly what I want to in the evenings and at weekends, spend what little money I have in a manner of my choosing and, most of all, have Julie all to myself. Hence, I've never been what you could call a family man.
Generally, Julie does agree with me. Especially when it comes to the lack of money and sleep. There are occasions though when the sight of a little baby gurgling away, happy in the knowledge that the contents of its nappy are someone else's problem, will make Julie say, "Awwwwwwww!" and, sometimes, "I wanna baby!"
At such times, a steady quelling look from me will suffice to quash such feelings. Although it does have to be said that at our age, it's pretty much a moot point by now.

So, when Julie replies, "I'm pregnant!" to my request of  "surprise me", you will usually find me grimacing at such a time-worn rejoinder.
Not so this time...

In case you were wondering (like I was), Julie was referring to the possibility of surrogate motherhood. It's still a ropey link, but at least it's not nearly as bizarre now...