Bedtime now, sweet.

But I want a story.

What about the three little pigs?

No - you know which story.

Again? Alright then.

Once upon a time there were lots of little embryos. There were big ones and strong ones, fat ones and fast ones, and embryos so beautiful everyone in the lab would stop and swoon as they went by under the microscope.

And they all had one dream. To become a beautiful, healthy baby who would be loved and cherished by doting parents.

You mean you and Daddy.

Yes, I mean me and Daddy. Anyway. The time for transfer would come around, and all the embryos would hold their breath, waiting to see who would be chosen and who would be left behind. And the scientists would look carefully, and they would say, "Let's choose this one - it has the most cells," or, "Let's choose this one - see how plump and symmetrical it is?" And they would choose one and thaw it out.

But even though these embryos were bigger, and faster, and stronger, and more beautiful, they didn't survive. They would die in the thaw, or shortly afterwards. And Mummy and Daddy would cry, but the other embryos would be both sad and happy - sad for their brothers and sisters, but happy their turn was coming closer.

Then, one day... well, guess what happened.

The scientist picked me!

Yes, he picked you. And as they transferred you, the specialist looked at me, and his brow was furrowed, and he seemed sad. "It's not the best embryo," he said.

But do you know what?

What?

He was wrong. Because best doesn't mean faster, or smarter, or stronger, or better looking. In fact, sometimes best simply means being the one who made it in the end.

So that's the end. You're the best, sweet. Goodnight now.

Night night.