The wife and I pace and we fume and we fuss
As we sit here at home now forty weeks plus
Why the hell won’t our daughter leave the uterus!
I’ve recently come to the determination that my wife’s uterus is a Tardis. It’s the only logical explanation. We’re beyond forty weeks now and still no baby. I’ve been told the uterus is a cramped and uncomfortable biological closet, but my wife’s must be a palatial resort with free HBO and room to spare. Why else would our daughter continually refuse to leave it.
Obviously, my wife’s uterus is capable of twisting time and space to accommodate both a growing baby and all the luxurious amenities preventing our daughter from leaving it. The only thing I know capable of twisting the fabric of space and time is a tardis. For those of you unfamiliar with the tardis, it’s the machine used by Dr. Who to travel through time and space.
All of this is evident when we are exposed to the machine for the first time to witness the contrast between its cramped exterior and luxuriously spacious insides. According to the series, this machine can also take on any form. If it can take the form of a police call box then why can’t it also take the form of my wife’s uterus.
The protective amniotic fluid alone would be well worth the conversion. As an added bonus, threatening space aliens would be far less likely to attack a pregnant woman’s uterus. I can’t be positive, but I feel punching a guy with glasses or punching a pregnant women’s uterus are both considered universally and intergalactically unacceptable forms of conduct. Any executives from BBC should probably be taking notes right about now.
Even better than the possibility of traveling through time and space is the further possibility that my daughter is a time lord. These guys never seem to die, but are merely reborn in an entirely different form throughout all of the seasons. Previous iterations of time lords have taken the form of a fully grown adult male, but why not a tiny baby girl.
My daughter could be a tiny goddess of time travel, screaming through different time streams and the outer reaches of space. Her adorable, baby sized sonic screwdriver could fix not only the universe’s problems, but also garner her fame as the first female time lord (lordess?).
I can’t wait! I’ve always wanted to time travel and hopefully my daughter will be gracious enough to let daddy hitch a ride. It’s the least she could do for making mommy and I wait so long for her arrival, but how can I blame her. She probably has loads of time lording stuff to do. Besides, how do you give time outs to someone who has complete control over time itself.