I can't help but feel a tiny bit smug; all those show tune CDs I have are actually coming in handy.

It turns out that the twins really enjoy dancing to them.

Well, at least as much as they are able to dance at the moment, which mostly includes bopping up and down unless Monica and I are guiding them, which is what we're doing right now. I'm really not sure where Monica gets this stuff, but she told me that interacting with babies like this—listening to music, dancing, that sort of thing—is good for their development. That's one of the reasons we constantly talk to them; holding conversations with babies is supposed to help their language skills, which makes sense. Also, we're not supposed to respond to their baby-talk words, but instead use the actual words of the item they want, which is all well and good once they start actually using one "word" for something. Right now, there's a lot of pointing and babbling; we'll still show Jack and Erica what it is they're pointing to and explain what it is, but I have no idea if it's doing any good yet. I was also informed that we're not supposed to stick them in front of the TV and hope they figure out language that way, that we need to engage them, which is fine by me; there's nothing on television that's half as entertaining as spending time with my kids.

They're extraordinarily responsive, though, which seems like a good sign. They talk all the time, even though we have no idea what they're saying. Even more fascinating, they always talk to each other—what I wouldn't give to know if they were actually communicating.

"You can wipe that look off your face," Monica says suddenly. "Just because our kids like The Sound Of Music doesn't mean you have to get all puffed up about it."

"Hey; my geeky little habit finally paid off. Our kids are happy, so you should be happy."

"I'm happy, but that doesn't mean I have to be thrilled about you being so smug."

I try to school my features and concentrate on Erica, whose happy little face is right in front of mine, the four of us sprawled out on the floor. We've become such homebodies it's ridiculous. Even if all we did was go to the coffee house, the group of us would usually find some way to leave the house and do something. Now, it seems like all we want to do is sit at home in our spare time, or rush right home from work, and just be together. We do take them places—when the weather permits, we take them to the park or just walk through the neighborhood. But seeing the world through the eyes of our children is a phenomenal experience, one neither of us wants to take for granted.

Carefully, I give Erica first one finger, then another, for her to grip onto so she's standing under mostly her own strength.

"Look look look," I say to Monica, and she grins at our daughter.

"That's my big girl!" She looks back at Jack, who's squatting with the help of his mother. Squatting is something he just figured out the other day he could do—so far, it serves no purpose other than looking adorable. But, it seems to thrill him to no end, especially when one of us helps him pop into the air as he straightens out his legs. Despite his relatively serious demeanor, I think he's a daredevil at heart.

"Hey, Mon," I say suddenly. "Can I ask you something?"

"I thought we were going to try to start using 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' instead of our real names around them."

"Sorry; it's going to take some getting used to. Plus—it sounds a little dirty." Hearing Monica call me "Daddy" has done a few odd things to my libido, none of which are the sorts of things I want to associate with my kids.

She chuckles a little, helping Jack spring into the air. "I know. And you can probably get away with 'Mon' because it sounds close enough to 'Mom,' but I don't want them trying to call you 'Chandler'."

"That could be kind of cute, though."

"Oh, it'd be adorable, but probably too much of a tongue-twister." She grips onto Jack with one hand, pointing to herself with the other. "Mama. I'm Mama. Can you say 'Mama'?"

I feel a little rush hearing her call herself that, and this one isn't at all inappropriate. I truly hope they actually say her name first. We got excited the other day—Jack actually said "Dada" while looking at me, but a moment later, he looked at Monica and said the same thing. Then he looked at the toy he was playing with and screamed "Dada" while he flung the toy the ground, so we're pretty sure it was a fluke. It sounds like he's getting the idea of an actual word, but not quite at the point where he can completely associate the word with an object.

Erica still chatters away nonsensically, full of thoughts and ideas, all of them coming out in a rush of jumbled syllables—too much to say and not enough time to say it all. Most likely, though, once Jack starts to say a few words, she'll be right behind him, eager to get the same sort of attention.

"I'm sorry—you wanted to ask me something."

"What's it like being pregnant?"

A dreamy look comes over her face as she watches our son. "It's amazing."

I can't help but smile at her response. "No, I get that. But what's it like?"

She looks over at me for a second, confused. "I don't know what you mean."

I realize I'm probably not articulating myself well, though I can't really figure out how to ask what exactly it is that I mean. "Having a baby is something I'll never get to experience, not the way you are, and I just wanted to know what it's like."

She pauses, looking thoughtful, pulling Jack onto her lap. "It's…weird. I don't know—it's hard to describe. It feels like your body is doing a million different things at once, like it can't make up its mind on how it wants to behave. I mean, you saw what happened during the first trimester. I'd be completely fine one minute then nearly asleep the next. My breasts got a lot bigger all of a sudden, which is incredibly painful. It felt like everything made me cry and I couldn't control it. And the nausea. Oh, my GOD, the nausea. Knowing that any second, any little smell or taste could set me off made me not want to eat at all. Even now, even though I'm mostly over that, I'm still finding things that all of a sudden gross me out. But the cravings are even weirder, even though I know it's just my body's way of telling me that I, or the baby, need something that's a key element in that particular food. Except when it's not, and I just want a candy bar or pie all of a sudden. My body feels like it's constantly moving and stretching. My muscles are sore right through here." I look down to where her hands are gesturing—her hips and her pelvis. "My body is literally shifting to accommodate the baby, making room for where it needs to be. It's going to be even more bizarre in a few months when the baby's so big I can feel it pushing at my ribs."

I can't help but shudder. "That sounds horrible. The baby can actually do that?"

"That's what I've heard—the baby can stretch out and wiggle its little toes right against my ribcage. We'll probably even be able to see its elbows or feet when it pushes against me. Sometimes, they get hiccups."

I look over at Erica and she grins back at me, still holding onto my fingers. "I think Mommy's just messing with our heads with that one."

"Just wait," she assures me, rubbing her stomach gently with one hand, balancing Jack on her thigh with the other. "You'll see my stomach jumping all of a sudden and you'll know why."

"How could our baby possibly get hiccups?"

"Same way we get them," she tells me, shrugging. "Probably by swallowing funny. But according to my mom, I used to get the hiccups constantly while she was pregnant with me. It's really common. But, I guess the weirdest part about all of this knowing that there's actually a little person inside of me, someone who's depending on me to make all of its decisions, to make good choices, to give it the right amount of food and sleep, and to keep it safe for forty weeks. I mean, there's this baby inside of me that can move and wave and sleep and suck its thumb and flip over and hear things and it's just the freakiest, most amazing sensation in the world. I feel incredibly powerful and completely helpless at the same time. There's so much going on right now just inside of me that I don't think I can completely process it. Does that answer your question at all?"

"A little. I think…I think this is something I can't possibly understand unless I'm actually pregnant."

"Probably. I mean, I'm pregnant and I can't even properly express what it's like. All I can really tell you is that it's like nothing else. It's incredible and scary and the most wonderful thing I've ever gotten to do."

I shift Erica onto the floor next to me, though she refuses to sit down, so I prop her up with a hand against her stomach, my other hand going to Monica's belly. It really is weird to think about a little person living inside of her—I have a hard time not picturing the chest-burster guy from Alien, which is a traumatizing mental image that I refuse to share with my wife. She has enough to worry about.

"Dada." Both of our heads snap to Jack, who's looking casually at his hands, his fingers plucking at Monica's. I know he's not actually saying it to me and I feel myself deflate just a fraction; still, though, it's one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard. It won't be long at all before one or the both of them look at me and say it.

"So, when do you think you'll be able to feel the baby move?"

A weird look passes over her face, almost like she's concentrating. "See, here's the thing—I think the baby might be moving now."

I sit up a little straighter, excitement coursing through me. "Really? Where?"

She shakes her head. "It's really light and kind of fluttery. I've been feeling it for a while, actually, but it didn't occur to me that it could be the baby. I've been doing a lot of reading about this, and apparently it can be hard to recognize the baby's movements at first because it feels like so many other things. Even now, I'm not sure that it's not just my stomach doing funny things. It sounds like after you've done this once or twice, you can tell really early on when the baby's moving, but when you're a first-timer, it's much harder to figure out."

"So…you can't tell if it's the baby or gas?"

She purses her lips at me, looking less than amused. I look down at the twins and burst out laughing—they're both making the exact same face as Monica. They've entered the stage where they try to copy everything they see, and the results have been pretty hilarious, even as I'm getting disapproving looks from all three of them.

Monica looks down at them, smiling at the looks on their faces. "I guess Daddy doesn't want to get any ever again," she says to them, and I move my hand from her stomach to her cheek, drawing her face to mine.

"Aw, honey. I'm just teasing you," I say, kissing her.

"Like he…" She cuts herself off, looking down once again at the twins impressionable little faces. "Heck you are. You're just backpedalling so you can reap the benefits of all the crazy hormones running through my body right now." Despite her words, she lets me kiss her, and I'm pretty sure that once the twins go down for a nap, we'll be getting naked.

"Buh!" Erica exclaims, successfully breaking up our little moment.

"I gotta tell you," I sigh, leaning down to kiss Erica's soft blonde hair, "that kids are the biggest…cuckold ever."

"Can't be too much of a challenge; you managed to get me pregnant."

I waggle my eyebrows at her suggestively. "Superpowers, baby."

She shakes her head and tries to shift into a more upright position, groaning a little in the process, one hand going to brace her back, and I reach a hand out, placing it on her back as well, trying to help. "But seriously…is it okay that you haven't really felt the baby move?"

"I guess. I mean, we just went in for the five month checkup and we could see the baby moving on screen. We know it's in there and that it's active."

"Is there anything we can do to make it move more?"

"The only thing I know of is to make a loud noise—apparently, that can startle it and I'd probably be able to feel it then."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm good with trying to scare our fetus unless we absolutely have to."

"Thank you for that. I can also try drinking something really cold—that can also startle it."

"Want some ice water?" I ask, prepared to stand up. I've been ready to feel the baby for months, and anything I can do to help that along, I will.

She grabs my arm, the weird look back on her face. "I think it knows we're talking about it."

"What do you mean?"

A slow smile spreads across her face. "I think that's definitely kicking."

"What makes you so sure now?"

"It feels almost rhythmic, and this time it feels like it's going out rather than in, like it's trying to get through my bellybutton instead of my back."

I immediately put my hand to her stomach and she moves it into position, her hand covering mine as she presses it into her stomach. "Right there—can you feel that?"

I wait a few moments, hoping, finally shaking my head in disappointment. "No. Not a thing."

She presses my hand into her stomach a little more firmly. "How about now?"

"Easy there." I try to pull my hand back a little, worried about pressing too hard on the baby.

"You won't hurt it," she assures me.

"Well, I still can't feel anything. Are you sure it's kicking?"

She shakes her head, laughing a little. "No, but I'm going to tell myself that it's the baby anyway. Maybe this one likes show tunes, too. It should start really moving around any day now. If it doesn't, we'll go back to the doctor and check."

I feel a smack against my arm and look down at Erica. "Well, I certainly felt that baby. What's up, little butt?" She wrinkles her nose and whines. "That's helpful."

"Either we haven't been paying enough attention to her, or it's somebody's lunchtime. Two somebodies, actually." She lifts up Jack until he's sitting on top of her bump. "Are you hungry, Jack?"

I look at her incredulously. "Is it okay to do that?"

"He's a tiny little person—I think we'll all survive. He's not going to hurt the baby. Most of this stomach is just for show, you know. The baby is still pretty small and sitting much lower than Jack is right now."

"As long as you're sure." I stand up, lifting Erica with me, and before I can reach out to help, Monica's on her feet, lifting Jack carefully. She's gotten pretty adept at doing all this stuff while carrying an extra burden.

When she stands, her belly is much more noticeable, even through her roomy chef's jacket, and she's no longer able to really hide or deny the fact. Five months seems to be the magic number for her because almost overnight, she started to look really pregnant. Even her stride has changed and everything about her now just screams "EXPECTING!"

I love it.

She must see something on my face because her eyes start to twinkle. "Keep it in your pants, buddy. They'll be napping soon."

My breath catches in my throat a little in anticipation. It's amazing how much of a turn on my pregnant wife is.

Jack startles us both when he screeches out, "Eee!" and all thoughts of ravaging my wife are pushed to the back burner as we bring our children into the kitchen and place them in their high chairs, mealtime starting all over again.