Shroedinger's baby, name tags and a food mystery

Ever since the scan yesterday Ruprecht has been flipping about and giving me tummy wibbles.  This has led G to deduce that I am carrying Schroedinger's baby....  its quantum state remained unknowable until observed.  (I doubt we will be calling him Erwin in honour of this).

Never mind first names...  I suppose at some point we'll have to decide whose surname he gets.  (The kittens have mine, so it's probably only fair for Ruprecht to have G's.)

Speaking of the kitties, they've been booked in for their vital op in Feb...  which means we'll start to allow them outside when we return from Venice.  Eek!  I imagine we'll need to get them some name tags to stop them being stealth-adopted by little girls akin to my former self.  (I know all of their dastardly tricks...  it's all "Ooh can we keep it, mummy?  Can we?  It's OBVIOUSLY a stray.  Look, no collar!")   

I rather like the idea of giving them formal name tags, like  "Ms Truffle Matilda Flockhart" and "Ms Harriet Esmerelda Flockhart"...   however it may be more fitting to get Harriet a tag engraved with  "Dontcha wish your kitten was cute like me?"

Moving on....    someone please answer me this food mystery.  How is it that yesterday's cold roast potatoes are officially trademarked as Breakfast-of-the-Gods, but if someone offered you a cold leftover chip at 9am, you'd be sent running for the bathroom?   (I mean... aren't they essentially the same thing, just in different shapes?)

Well I suppose that's quite enough brain vacuity for a Saturday morning.   Unfortunately I have Things To Do....

Hope you've all got excellent weekend plans.