Bigelow: I wonder what he'll think of me;
I guess he'll call me the "old man.”

Stranger (TAPS BIGELOW"S SHOULDER): Excuse me, buddy - I was walkin’ behind you, and I couldn’t help hearin’ you talkin’ to yourself.  I don’t wanna butt in, but It sounds like you’re worried about havin’ your first kid. I’ve got lots of ’em - so ask me anything. … Okay? Go ahead… Hey mista, you harda hearin’?

Bigelow: I don't give a hang what he does,
As long as he does what he likes!

Stranger: Are you kiddin’? He’s gonna do what he wants whetha you want him to or not. Keep your eyes on the little bastid, or he’ll be on weed before he’s ten. 

Bigelow: He might be a champ of the heavyweights,
Or a feller that sells you glue,

Stranger: Glue! Where you been? There ain’t no use for glue no more, except for snffin’.  So, forget about glue, and boxin’?! What kinda kid do you wanna raise? C’mon!

Bigelow: Or President of the United States;
That'd be all right, too.

Stranger: Geez, are you out of it! By that time, president will be a wimmens’ job. Maybe you oughta have a girl….What? Whatsa matta? You look like you seen a ghost.

Bigelow: Hey, why am I carryin' on like this?
My kid ain't even been born, yet!

Stranger: Right! Now you’re talkin’. It’s a good thing I came along.

Bigelow: What if he is...a she?  What would I do with her?

Stranger: Calm down. Don’t do nothin’ right away. You’re not supposed to treat her different from a boy anymore. Kids grow up a little, and by the time they go to school, most of ’em know what bathroom they wanna go to. She might not even be a girl. So why worry now?

Bigelow: You can have fun with a son,
But you gotta be a father to a girl.

Stranger: Aw! You you didn’t hear nothin’ I said. So long, buddy. (WALKS AWAY, MUMBLING) That poor guy don't have no clue!