If you are near an expecting lady, and she gives a small yelp and jump but seems otherwise fine, pay it no mind. She probably just got a swift kick in the midsection. Depending on the expecting lady (hem, hem) the kicking child may be from a paternal line of tall and broad-framed men and women – two of whom were named Scipio Africanus (really and truly) and one of whom earned the nickname “Chewie” on account of his size (and hair – or so I am told.) I don’t know whether this child has got the Force à la Star Wars; he’s definitely got a good bit of the Newtonian kind.
One of my brothers laughed when I told him today about big baby comments I have gotten in the past. The first – “Have you got twins in there?” – he anticipated; I’ve also heard, “What are you carrying? A watermelon?” “That child is a tank!” and a popular favorite, but one I’d never recommend saying to a pregnant woman: “You look like you’re going to pop!”
In true brother fashion, he provided a couple of comebacks for me to use if necessary: “I’m pregnant; what’s your excuse?” and the more esoteric, “Your aspect ratio isn’t so great either.” Although I might be tempted, I won’t use either of those; hopefully I can smile pleasantly and heap coals of fire on heads instead.