4. The Question (cont.)

And from then on—at a time no one could predict—a bump grew into a baby and popped out.

It all made perfect sense. There was just one part of the process I didn’t understand, but then I had come to accept the fact that grown ups were hard to understand. Somehow I had come by the information that when couples married, they didn’t necessarily know how many children they were going to have over their years together. And yet if they really wanted to know, all they had to do was to count the bumps.

I understood, of course, that during the operation neither the man nor the woman might be feeling much like counting. Surely, though, the doctor could have counted for them. And told them afterwards. And then they would know! Important things, like how many bedrooms they were going to need.

There was no way around it. Grown ups were silly.

I went to find Will to offer him the crumbling egg yolk in my hand.