No not the cheesy feel-good movie about nature v nurture staring Arnold Wotzisknockers and Danny DeVito, I’m talking about the very real possibility that the new life, the little bundle of rapidly differentiating cells growing inside my lovely Missus is not a bean but beans. Plural.

It’s a possibility that only occurred to me a couple of days ago but has really got me thinking. Twins would mean we’d have to come up with two names. One is hard enough (see my previous post) but two? Oh dear. What if they’re both boys? Two boy’s names? Nightmare.

Of course, with twins, the names are the least of the worries. Poor Mrs Nobody is only five foot one and very petite, carrying one baby is going to be a real trial for her let alone two and then there’s the birth, having to force two little squirming bodies out of her Super Special Sphincter would be no walk in the park.

Later of course there’s having to have two of everything. Luckily Mrs Nobody has two boobs so feeding then should be too much of problem but we’ll also need to double up up cots, car seats, clothes, toys… well you get the picture, the list is endless.

Would we dress them alike? If they’re identical twins would we be able to tell them apart? How do you avoid favouritism?

Twins. Oh my. It would be fantastic if it were, but I just hope we could cope! I guess we’ll know in about seven or eight weeks when we have our first scan!