One day, a bright, outgoing little girl named Erica waddled to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater. She held up a photo of an infant.
— This is Luke, my baby brother, and I’m going to tell you about his birthday. First, Mommy and Daddy made him as a symbol of their love, and then Daddy put a seed in my mother’s stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for 9 months through an umbrella cord.
Erica kept both hands on the pillow while Betsy tried not to laugh. The whole class stared in amazement.
— Then, about two Saturdays ago, my mother starts going, “Oh, oh, oh!”
Erica put one hand behind her back and groaned.
— She walked around the house for, like, an hour: “Oh, oh, oh!”
Now she was doing a full duck-walk, clutching her back and groaning.
— My father called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn’t have a sign on the car like the Domino’s man. They got my mother to lay down in bed like this.
Erica lay down with her back against the wall.
— And then, pop! My mother had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!
She spread her legs and, with both little hands, mimed water flowing away. Betsy was nearly finished.
— Then the middle wife starts going push, push, and breathe, breathe. They start counting, but they never even got past 10. Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff they said was from the play-center, so there must be a lot of stuff inside there.
Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow, and returned to her seat. Betsy was sure she applauded the loudest.
