Dr. Spock's
Wisdom For Scully    

Congratulations, dear Agent Scully, on your new bundle of joy!  Now that the magical glow of childbirth has worn off, you're probably realizing that taking care of a newborn is a bit more difficult than taking care of, say, a carnivorous Pomeranian.  Keeping that in mind, I'd like to help you out by offering a few parenting tips: 

Remember, nobody wants to hear a baby scream.  Wondering why those alien replicants scooted out of your delivery room so quickly?  It wasn't because of Agent Reyes's enthusiastic harmonic moooing, oh no--it was because she smacked your baby a little too hard and his bellowing drove them out, covering their ears and moaning, "Jeez, take him OUTSIDE already!"  If little William cries in a restaurant, movie theater, or autopsy bay, take him outside.  Nobody likes a crying baby--not even the newly deceased.  If he bleats when he cries in a restaurant, movie theater, or during a stakeout, take him outside and leave him there.  Trust me.  You're better off getting rid of him early on in this game.

You've probably noticed by now that babies are very familiar with the inverse of "What goes up, must come down."  William does not CARE how much money you spent on that nice Armani suit or your brown suede jacket. To him, it's all different shades of napkin.  Remember to keep a towel or cloth diaper on you in case his tummy is upset after feeding and he spits up on your clothes.  I know what you're thinking..."but a baby diaper just does not GO with my chic black ensemble!"  Baby vomit is hard to get out of suits, and let's face it, your shirts are already too small--repeated baby-related washings are only going to make things worse.

We here at the Abbey are concerned not only for your wardrobe, but for little William's as well.  Please stick to the selection of adorable outfits that we've selected for you--they all come with extra buttons just in case.  Do not--I repeat, DO NOT let Mulder clothes shop for the baby, or you will wind up with a drawer full of grey cotton onesies.  It's probably best to avoid any baby clothes from the Lone Gunmen too.  They probably don't make alpaca vests and Ramones t-shirts in baby sizes, but it never hurts to be too careful.  Also, you may not want to give him the shoes Kristin so thoughtfully provided.  She was hoping for a girl.  And finally, Kirby is sending a little seed corn cap for the baby.  You don't have to make him wear it. 

Proper nutrition is essential to William's growth. Feed him the wrong foods, and you may wind up with a Theresa Nemmons-style Giant Baby (tm) on your hands. It's probably a good idea not to let Mulder feed the baby, or he'll be getting a bottle full of Sunny Delight from October 1998.  And I'm guessing that Nonfat Tofutti DreamFormula is pretty nasty stuff too, no matter how much bee pollen you put in there. On the other hand, a good-sized slice of Cheerwine Pie will be just the thing to ease his colic and sweeten his dreams.

Experts say that it's a good idea to read to your baby and expose him to music.  It's never too early to explain Einstein's Twin Paradox to little William--we all want him to grow up to be a Mensa candidate.  Encourage his creative side as well; he might enjoy some Al Green when he's trying to drift off to sleep.  If, like his mommy, his pants mysteriously disappear while he's listening to Al Green, let us know.  I for one am dying to find out if that's genetic.

Choose your pediatrician carefully, since he'll be taking care of your baby for a long time.  I'd advise going against recommendations from either of your ob/gyns on this one.  Technically, Dr. Parenti is a little too decapitated to be giving any advice, but your other Doctor--what was her name?  Dr. NoResuscitation pants?  I know you admire Dr. #2's  CPR technique, but I really think you want someone a bit more thorough for your baby.

While you're taking care of your baby, don't forget to take some time for yourself.  Enjoy a bubble bath.  Spend a quiet night cleaning your gun.  Hey, go completely crazy--put on an actual pair of jeans.  You'll feel better about yourself, and we'll feel better for you.

And finally, when you're jetting from Washington DC to LA in just under an hour and a half, don't forget to stop and change the baby's diaper.  He may be possibly without human frailties, but I bet his diaper still stinks.

Good luck, Agent Scully!


by B.Dodd, crack reporter

I sometimes forget to feed my dog for 3 days. Irresponsible people like me should (and are generally required by law to) stay out of the human gene pool. I choose to remain childless, along with millions of other women who proudly belong to the demographic that vow never to subscribe to baby magazines, clip Pampers coupons from circulars or set foot in Toys R Us unless at gunpoint. As a result, our screaming child tolerance levels are pretty thin. 

So, naturally the OBSSE would pick THIS issue to invite me to do an assignment--conducting the little uberchild’s very first exclusive interview.  I was already walking out the door backwards when the editors noted that our newsletter would not only be beating Barbara Walters to the scoop, but we’d be the envy of the National Enquirer, too.  Wow. (Word of warning: the people on this Abbey staff here can be VERY persuasive. Lord help us all if they ever start up a meth lab and assign product testers.)

So off I went with my little tape recorder in hand to meet The Blessed Offspring for an interview. Sadly, Scully was not around. They told me she had some important business to take care of and had left her child in the trusting hands of her mother. But since Ma Scully wanted to keep her “Effectively Staying Out of Your Daughter’s Life” support group appointment in Vancouver, at the last minute she re-hired some baby nursemaid woman named Lizzy.

Lizzy kindly offered me a glass of water and a vitamin(?), grabbed her bucket of Mr. Clean, and left me alone with the baby in his quiet nursery so we could talk. 

  Any other reporter would probably start by pinching your cheeks and remarking how cute you are. Yeah, whatever. Here’s my first question. Not since Little Ricky has a television baby’s appearance been so highly anticipated.  Tell me, William, what does it feel like to get all this attention?

Little William: Goo ga. Gaaaah . <wets pants>

Instantly, I had to stop the interview and call Lizzy back into the room for diaper duty. I’m sorry, but I find the odor terribly distracting while trying to carry on a serious conversation. I can’t work like this. Anyway, with fresh Pampers on the little bambino and Lizzy whistling off into the other room with her Rx bottles, we were ready to resume the interview.

BDodd: Do you realize what an absolutely perfect mother you have? Not many kids can call their mommy a gen-u-ine saint.  The 'Purest Of All Virgin Gestation Vessels.'  But we must say, we really hate that you caused her quite a bit of excruciating labor pain there in that little Georgia shack under the north UFO star chosen for your birth. 

And to add insult to injury, think about how embarrassing for poor Scully to have such a large, captive audience witness her private parts this way. The humiliating sacrifices she made for you, and not a single person in that room watching the scene bothered to toss a coin for NF.  I'm sorry, William, but as the subject of this horrific birth scenario, I'm not sure the fans will ever be able to forgive you for that.

Little William: <cries>

BDodd: Good, it's nice to know you feel human guilt. It helps to dispel those rumors that our lowly Homo Sapien race is destined to depend on you, the second coming of Hybrid!Christ.  Just promise me if our planet ever comes under your leadership, you will continue the necessary worship of Her Red-Headedness. Grow forth and be proud, Sir William!

(Rudely, the child started to drift off to sleep, so I had to shake him a few times)

BDodd: Excuse me? Look kid, I've traveled hours to do this interview and I’ve got a really tight deadline to meet.  Show a little respect.

(I can't work like this.)

Shortly after Scully announced her miraculous pregnancy, Chris Carter went on to state publicly, on several occasions, that he was, in fact, your father. Metaphorically as your creator.  And now after extended months of stressful speculation (yawns) on whether you might've been the product of an um...alien... probe, it turns out finally that your daddy is indeed Fox Mulder. Who despite his thrifty reputation, apparently does know how to give your mother all things. Anyway, with that gripping cliffhanger now over (buffs nails), tell me, are you happy with the paternity news?

Little William: Goo gooo gahhhh. Goo gooo TRUTH gaw gah goo LIES goo gaa gaaa gaaa MEANINGS gaaa gaaa goooo SURFS UP gaa gaaagoo TRUTH gih.  <cries>

BDodd: Hmmm, are we absolutely SURE about these paternity results?  Oh well, since you're already sobbing anyway, now I want you to think about how you spiked your mommy's poor hormones, too. You effectively flattened her floofy hair during her entire third trimester. Her FOURTH trimester was even worse, but then I'm not here to get into this whole whacked-out timeline issue. 

Little William: <wails>

BDodd: Heh, and they declared you to be without human frailties?  I rest my case.

(At this point the child's annoying baby nursemaid Lizzy reentered the room, apparently suspicious of my classy interviewing skills. Like I would intentionally upset a beloved member of our Madonna's Floof-less Flock?  I'm crushed.  To get rid of Lizzy, I told her the ship we were on had just hit an iceberg. Worked like a charm.)

BDodd: So, junior. As the so-called perfect child, any chance you can renegotiate your contract to a more "perfect" compensation scale this early in the series?

Little William: Ga gaaa gaah. Goo ga ga ga RESIDUALS gaa gah FX CABLE geh.

BDodd: Sweet. But go for the bigger trailer.  Right now they've got you confined to this tiny crib with squeaky wheels. You sound like the butt genie coming down the hall.  Hey, not that this has anything to do with that, but have you ever heard that Heart song Bebe Le Strange?

Little William: Eh? 

BDodd: "Under my skin you got my mind rearranged." It's a line in that song. Considering you might be superhuman, It's sort of like you in a Frankenstein Gibson kind of way.  Bebe Le Strange. Anyway, I'm sure this song is in your little lullaby CD collection over there which I see currently includes Beethoven, Bach and 3 Dog Night.

Little William: Essh sha a BULLFROG sh la dee dah-- bah bah JERIMIAHA dink HIS WINE.

BDodd: Nice to see you've inherited your mother's singing talents, too.  Hang on a second while I stuff cotton in my ears.  (They usually don't bleed like this...)

Little William: Who's da CAT WITH zah dih enn bah. SHAFT!

BDodd:  Oh, I see you’re bi-singual.  So, which one of your parents’ chromosomes takes harmony?

Little William: <spits up>

Yuck. I had lots more questions, but unfortunately the kid fell fast asleep and that scary Lizzy woman stood over him like a hawk and wouldn't let me poke him again. Besides, a reporter from the Enquirer was up next with the press junket camped outside, so I had to hurry back to the Abbey with my story, otherwise we'd lose our 'exclusive scoop' promotional edge.

I must admit this baby is sort of cute. And because Scully and Mulder adore him with schmoopy, unconditional love, I suppose I could learn to tolerate him a little. As long as he doesn’t leave The Blessed One frazzled and sleep-deprived and baggy-eyed in-between important autopsies, non-fat tofutti rice dreamsicles and solving human hybrid DNA puzzles. But the second our Blessed One’s hair falls flat again? I'm sorry, but I'll be coming after that kid myself.