Low Birth Weight

3.14 kg, it rounds to 3.1 kg in the record entry line, putting him just under the national average birth weight (3.25 kg, which rounds to 3.3 kg in the entry line). Claudia studied the sheet as she absently held the newborn. He’d just fallen asleep and she had taken the opportunity to wriggle the documentpad up onto the bed with her foot while holding Chris steady and had finally got it in her left hand. 3.14. She'd heard that somewhere, but through the fog of painkillers and birthing medicines all she could think was, "It's low, and I didn't smoke a single duddy the whole time." She looked at the baby, studying it for the problems her grandmother had expounded were "getting more likely as the river turns dark." It was the elder woman's euphemism for pollution, and also her way of deflecting responsibility. She'd poo-pooed the idea in her youth and voted for the Jobs! More jobs! Party all the way until the Air Exposure Restrictions put the clamp down on Girl's Hour, not to mention her shopping.

A nurse trundled in like nurses do, with a very distinct purpose, but for all her demeanor it may have nothing whatsoever to do with the patient. Claudia waved at the woman, and she dutifully obliged, a very professional smile ready for the new mother, "Yes m'dear?"

Claudia didn't know how to word her fears at first- they were at once ridiculous and terrifying to the youngish mother of now one. "Is, he, you know, little for his age you think?"

The professional smile turned to one a mixture of relief and comfort, "Of course not! He's within the-" and here she slowed down so Claudia could have time to process the difficult words, "standard deviation. He's in the normal limit."

Claudia ran her thumb over his wriggly little fingers and felt like a giant, and for the first time in months, not the fat kind. She looked up at the nurse with a renewed sense of terror, "What if the average goes up?"

The nurse laughed, "It won't count for him, dear. Just the current average counts for current newborns. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

Claudia nodded, placated by the nurse's wisdom.

"He's an adorable baby, isn't he?" The nurse went on as she she checked something on the bed beyond Claudia's sight. "What have you named him?"

Claudia shrugged with her free shoulder. They hadn't named him as of month nine. All the baby shower gifts and such had just had place markers such as "TBA" and "Sir Not Appearing in this Film" wherever the baby's name should go. Claudia squeezed her eyes shut as the nurse continued to touch things around the bed. She felt a bump as she answered, “Christopher.”

Claudia scrolled up the entry form to the blank where the baby's name should go. Christophe. She tried to add the "r", but it wouldn't do. Too bad, maybe she could upgrapde little ChristopheR to 3.15 kg while she was at it. The nurse noticed her trying to work the document. "Oh no, dear. It's secure, no one can make unauthorized changes."

"But I'm the mum, if anyone ought to be authorized it's me." Claudia protested. When the nurse returned with a "oh isn't that cute, she thinks she should be allowed to access a Secure Document" look, Claudia continued a bit more abrasively, "Besides, you've got his name wrong. This says Christophe, but his name is ChristopheR, after his grandfather," Claudia added the granddad bit compulsively.

"Oh, that document has a character limit. I'm sure it's right on his birth certificate."

23 years later

"Oh, whoever heard of a square pie, outside the school cafeteria pizza variety," Claudia protested to her son as she sipped her tea in one of the shops empty booths. She had the vaguest feeling she was missing something important. They were sitting in eminently opening "Pie Squared Pastry Shop" with a logo of an apple pie, perpendicular to the floor  (the angle a pie is at just before it hits one's face) and it had a funny, mini-sized “2” floating just up and right of it.

"But you can't have a name like pie squared and then sell the lay people pies none of which are actually square, and I'm certainly not selling pies ‘buy one get one free’." Chris folded his arms and leaned back. He was never going to be the fat kid, that was sure, but to Claudia’s relief that last .01 kilogram really hadn’t messed her son up….physically at least.

Claudia didn't get either of Chris’ mathematical references, she was only annoyed at her son's continued use of the label "lay people" to describe non-scientists. He'd taken on the habit when he was at his Very Expensive University majouring in Astronomy and Physics. Then he graduated and promptly told his family he planned to be a pastry chef.

Thank God they were a family of free spirits.

Claudia helplessly grinned at her only son and wished desperately for a great big duddy. If she'd known they were going to be banned altogether, she might have risked one now or then while her skinny little Chris was still packed away in her womb and safe from eccentricity. After all, she had started thinking these last few years, what difference would another .01 or even .05 kilograms short at the start have made?

Pie squared, indeed. What in the world was the joke, anyway?