Cheaper by the Dozen

disappeared, and a few moments later Dad came up head first. His nose was bleeding, but he was grinning and didn't forget to spit the fine stream of water through his front teeth.
    "The bird they call the elephant," he whispered weakly, and he was Dad then. But not for long. As soon as his head cleared and his strength came back, he was the captain again.
    "All right, you red lobsters, avast there," he bellowed. "Throw your captain a line and help haul me aboard. Or, shiver my timbers, I'll take a belaying pin to the swab who lowered tthe boom on me."

Chapter 13
Have You Seen the Latest Model?

    It was an off year that didn't bring a new Gilbreth baby. Both Dad and Mother wanted a large family. And if it was Dad who set the actual target of an even dozen, Mother as readily agreed.
    Dad mentioned the dozen figure for the first time on their wedding day. They had just boarded a train at Oakland, California, after the ceremony, and Mother was trying to appear blasé, as if she had been married for years. She might have gotten away with it, too, if Dad had not stage whispered when she took off her hat prior to sitting down:
    "Good Lord, woman, why didn't you tell me your hair was red?"
    The heads of leering, winking passengers craned around. Mother slid into the seat and wiggled into a corner, where she tried to hide behind a magazine. Dad sat down next to her. He didn't say anything more until the train got underway and they could talk without being heard throughout the car.
    "I shouldn't have done that," he whispered. "It's just — I'm so proud of you I want everyone to look at you, and to know you're my wife."
    "That's all right, dear. I'm glad you're proud of me."
    "We're going to have a wonderful life, Lillie. A wonderful life and a wonderful family. A great big family."
    "We'll have children all over the house," Mother smiled.
    "From the basement to the attic."
    "From the floorboards to the chandelier."
    "When we go for our Sunday walk we'll look like Mr. and Mrs. Pied Piper."
    "Mr. Piper, shake hands with Mrs. Piper. Mrs. Piper, meet Mr. Piper."
    Mother put the magazine on the seat between her and Dad, and they held hands beneath it.
    "How many would you say we should have, just an estimate?" Mother asked.
    "Just as an estimate, many."
    "Lots and lots."
    "We'll sell out for an even dozen," said Dad. "No less. What do you say to that?"
    "I say," said Mother, "a dozen would be just right. No less."
    "That's the minimum."
    "Boys or girls?"
    "Well, boys would be fine," Dad whispered. "A dozen boys would be just right. But...well, girls would be all t right too. Sure. I guess."
    "I'd like to have half boys and half girls. Do you think it would be all right to have half girls?"
    "If that's what you want," Dad said, "we'll plan it that way. Excuse me a minute while I make a note of it" He took out his memorandum book and solemnly wrote: "Don't forget to have six boys and six girls."
    They had a dozen children, six boys and six girls, in seventeen years. Somewhat to Dad's disappointment, there were no twins or other multiple births. There was no doubt in his mind that the most efficient way to rear a large family would be to have one huge litter and get the whole business over with at one time.
    It was a year or so after the wedding, when Mother was expecting her first baby, that Dad confided to her his secret conviction that all of their children would be girls.
    "Would it make much difference to you?" Mother asked him.
    "Would it make much difference?" Dad asked in amazement. "To have a dozen girls and not a single boy?" And then realizing that he might upset Mother, he added quickly: "No, of course not. Anything you decide to have will be just fine with me."
    Dad's conviction that he would have no boys was based on a hunch that the Gilbreth Name, of which he was terribly proud, would cease to exist with him; that he was the last of the Gilbreths. Dad was the only surviving male of the entire branch of his family. There were two or three other Gilbreths in the country, but apparently they were no relation to Dad. The name Gilbreth, in the case of Dad's family, was a fairly recent corruption of Galbraith. A clerk of court, in a small town in Maine, had mispelled Galbraith on some legal document, and it had proved easier for Dad's grandfather to change his name to Gilbreth—which was how the clerk had spelled it—than to change the document So when Anne was born, in New York, Dad was not in the least bit disappointed,