At first I thought that my baby was related to an Olympic gymnast, with all of his kicks and turns, but recoiled that notion, as I prefer the 6'4" stature of Michael Phelps. Plus, now that he has won more Olympic gold medals than any other athlete, I think the similarity in greatness alone is cause for speculation. In case you don't believer me, my baby is submerged in water (aka amniotic fluid) while practicing his kick turns, freestyle, butterfly and backstroke, and while he is nursing, he'll be learning the breaststroke, so the likeness just continues to prove my theory. That I have never met the Olympic swimmer far less slept with him has nothing to do with it. Do you really think the Virgin Mary ever liaised with God?

So now that I know my belly is Olympic training ground, I will start taking tax deductions and call Bob Costas to see about scheduling an interview. When Bob asks me what I'd like to say to my Baby Daddy, I'll contort a sincere look on my face and say "Stay Gold, Pony Boy"... too bad Phelps is too young to catch the reference to the Outsiders.

Pony Boy Curtis out...