You glance nervously into the back seat, double-checking he’s still there.
The stork made a delivery, and you’re bringing it home for the first time.
You can’t help but wonder, “How did this happen to me? How did I get so lucky?” but deep down, you really only want to know one thing, “Do I have what it takes?”
The car inches forward.
As you pull in, your heart swims when you see your entire family swarming the car like frenzied fans seeing Elvis for the first time.
You smile, grateful for the love, but frown thinking about the small talk you’d rather avoid. You shoo them away, insisting, “Go inside, go inside!” and sneak one more glance into the backseat before whispering, “You’re finally home.”
Upon entering the house, you’re instantly mobbed like a celebrity at a Hollywood premiere. You try to make your way to the bedroom, but eager family members block your path.
“Let me see!”
“The little cutie pie still looks a little green.”
“You can tell he’s going to be tart.”
You nod, smile and push past them, single-mindedly focused on one mission — get that baby to bed.
As you open the door, a celestial white light pours out, accompanied by a drop in temperature. You’re almost home free, but then you hear:
“Come here; let’s see what the stork brought!”
You sigh and head to the dining room.
“Ok… Ok… I appreciate all the love, but really I’m tired and just… Hey, what the hell are you doing?”
Your Uncle Ron snatches the ‘baby’ from your hands, opens the jar, and jams a pickle into his mouth.
“What the hell?! I was saving those!”
Your entire family dives at the jar like a pack of ravenous wolves, scratching and clawing until there are no pickles left. You watch helplessly, h̶o̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶praying one of them chokes.
After the feeding frenzy, your Uncle Ron saunters over to you, a toothpick dangling from his lips.
“You’re lucky the stork brought you some Vlasics. All the stork brought me was a good-for-nothin’ kid.”
“Gee, thanks.” — You shrug.
In the distance, his son frowns.
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