…your teenager sees baby doll feet poking out from underneath a pillow and momentarily panics that there has been a serious mishap with a baby. Some baby. Not sure whose baby, but somebody's baby. Because there have in the past always been lots of babies around here.
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Poor kid. He came upstairs half laughing, half crying in relief that he did not, in fact, stumble upon the scene of a homicide.
Makes me wonder what his reaction was when his last sister was born. I imagine something like: "Oh look, another baby. Pass the pizza, please."
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