My husband Max has been enthusiastically keeping track of the fetus's progress via several web sites. He likes to show me the pictures of what it looks like each week and read aloud the "what's going on with your baby this week" blurb. It seems odd that all this stuff is going on in there and, aside from a lot of barfing and nausea, I don't feel a thing. All those little cells and molecules going about their busy work, and I can't even tell.
Me: "Does it still have a tail?"
Max: "No, the tail disappeared a few weeks ago. At least, it was supposed to."
Me: "That's too bad. Tails are kinda cool. You know if our kid was born with a tail, we'd totally make the kid keep it. And then we'd put the kid in a freak show."
Max: "Oh, yeah. Absolutely. That kid can earn his college tuition."
Me: "Tuition? Hell, the kid can earn his keep. Get out there, Monkey, mama needs a new pair of Chuck Taylors!"
Max: "I wonder if it would be able to grab stuff? Would it be like an elephant's trunk?"
Me: "Oh, that would be awesome! You're reaching for the remote, and it's too far away, so you ask the kid to get it with his tail. Extra fingers, pah! We got the useful mutation."