A baby cries in the same incubator they put Porthos in. I hoped they cleaned it out since then. I mean, I love dogs, but, you know, stinky. Phlox proclaims Mozzarella Baby a "perfect genetic duplicate." Hold on, where did they get the dinky-poo shirt and the equally dinky-poo knitted cap? From the same store where they got the Western duds and guns? "Ye Olde Generally Spacey Store: Western clothes, six-shooters, and all the baby clothes you could want! We're located just around the corner from Porthos's hydrant so mind the poo!" Phlox hands a bottle over to T'Pol and pulls Mozzarella Baby out of the incubator, cooing that it's been a long time since he handled a newborn. Considering he's holding the kid upside down, I would have guessed as much. Kidding! I'm just kidding, god. Don't go getting your diapers in a twist. Now, I wonder if there were any strong opinions aboard regarding breast-feeding. I think if Phlox can make a Trip out of a mild, white fresh Italian cheese, he could make a wet nurse out of Hoshi or T'Pol. And that's not sexist, that's just dinners. Although T'Pol, being Vulcan, probably has copper-based milk, and no one wants to see that spit up.
Phlox feeds the baby. From the bottle, dudes. In the sour corner, Quantum muses that three days ago Mozzarella Baby was just one of Phlox's "creatures," something he "kept on a shelf." Is he calling Mozzarella Baby a slug? Because all babies look like that for the first few months. Phlox blandly agrees that Mozzarella Baby has come a long way, baby. T'Pol feels the need to remind them all how quickly they grow up. Can I get a few bars of "Sunrise, Sunset" over here? When T'Pol asks where the kid is going to live, Phlox suggests his Sickbay-cum-laboratory. Why not? He'll truly be a product of his environment. Quantum agrees, and he and T'Pol take their sour attitudes to the door. Phlox stops them in their sour tracks when he says he now needs to find a name for the little cheeseball. I'm all for "Buffalo." Phlox doesn't like the suggestions he's been given, "Steven, Enrique, Dennis." As Phlox continues to giggle and coo over the baby, T'Pol and Quantum roll their eyes in irritation. Yes, the two crabpots are really regretting Quantum's decision to allow this procedure. Quantum's sure Phlox will think of something, and he leaves. I think he should name the cheeseball "Edward Furrowlong" just to piss both T'Pol and Quantum off.