I’m Like a Drug-Sniffing Dog…But For Pregnant Ladies.

Morgan called tonight with lovely news: His wife, Tara, is expecting their first child in February.

I was delighted, but not surprised. I was at a party at their house a couple of weeks ago. When Tara opened the door to me, the first thing I thought was Hey! She’s pregnant!

Of course, I didn’t say anything. You don’t, really, unless you have an excess of poor manners. But it did make me think.

The same thing happened when Genevieve was pregnant. One day I looked at the back of her head and I knew she was upduffed.

In both cases, it didn’t seem like anything physical tipped me off. Both women looked as they always did. So why did I know? Am I now hyper-sensitive to Zygote Riding Along pheromones? Or is it the latent alleged psychic streak from my father’s side manifesting itself in a new and not-so-useful fashion?

I don’t know why it happens, but it’s kind of a cool trick.

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