Gilbreth gambols again -- this time with the expectant father- ""that nail biting, sniveling, weeping, blundering, fumbling craven who suddenly becomes a beaming, giggling, gloating, cigar-distributing exhibitionist"". Coach Gilbreth counsels uninitiated benedicts on the travail ahead -- from the nurse who accompanies the new baby home, whose last infant charge had far more hair and parents with money, to the barrage of porringers and teething rings which can always be melted for their bullion content. He braces the father-to-be for the shattering experiences before him -- when his wife murmurs that Celctine would be a nice name for a girl and for the unnerving first glimpse of his offspring. The father's sanity can sometimes be vaged, he suggests, despite two dollar checks from maiden aunts encumbered with the proviso that they may be cashed on the infant's twenty first birthday, if he has never touched liquor or smoked. His dissertation on the duel of the diaper is Rabelasian. A pacifier for Pop -- for an ascertainable market.