My first hatchling, Blort, was born on Sunday at about 11am. Rather heartlessly, I terminated him in the evening because I decided I’d warped him too much by not knowing what I was doing. (NB If more parents adopted this strategy in real life, the world would be a better place.) Besides, I really wanted a girl.
Blort’s successor, Zooey, was born shortly afterwards. She seems to be doing well.