All the men in the senior staff have taken refuge in Ten Forward. Following the birth of Sheena, Karena's daughter, the women have talked incessantly about it, and as a result, we are all seeking sanctuary together.
"It's been tough." complains Riker, "Deanna has been asking me when we can take leave to visit Sheena and her mother. She wants to cuddle the baby."
"You think you've had problems, Number One?" I point out, "Beverly is the child's grandmother, and as a result, she wants to know where the USS Rhode Island is at all times so we can be there to help. Karena has sent lot of pictures to the Enterprise, and with each new photo Beverly nudges me in the ribs and says "Isn't she gorgeous." or something like that. My ribs now have bruises."
"A Klingon warrior is not interested in baby pictures." states Worf firmly, "In the Empire, a warrior's woman has her child and they grow up healthy and strong. There are no baby showers or such things."
"Don't Klingon women get tiogether to talk about their children?" Geordi asks with a sly smile.
"They may do." Worf grudgingly admits, "But only to talk about how their child will be a fine addition to the Empire."
"Yeah, sure." Geordi replies drily.
"I must admit." begins Data, "That I might like to be a babysitter."
We look round in amazement, as if we have a traitor in our midst.
"Do you really think you would be good at it, Data." Riker asks.
"I think so." he answers, "After all, my program consists of all the major babycare journals, techniqies and..."
"It takes a lot more than jusr knowledge from a book to get that right." I tell him, "Experience is essential. It's the vital difference between being a good and bad babysitter."
"I think I'd sing the young baby one of my songs" says the hologram Vic Fontaine.
"Well, that would certainly send Sheena to sleep." Geordi comments, which raises a laugh from all, except Vic.
"Even Seven of Nine has got baby fever." I tell them, "She has sent some photos off to the Borg Queen who wants to see more.
"Maybe it will all calm down soon?" Data suggests.
"I think you'll have a few more years to wait there." I reply.
With that, we all leave Ten Forward and join our baby-mad women.