Merry Christmas, Mommy
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Muriel Jensen
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18,1K
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15
Prologue
Mother? What happened? Sounded like someone dropped a piano on the car. Are we all right?
Um...Mother? I think you’re breathing too fast. And you’re pushing on me awfully hard. You explained to me how this was going to work, but don’t we still have three weeks to go?
Who was that? Where are all those voices coming from? What are the “jaws of life”? I don’t like the sound of that. I’m willing to be born if you’re sure this is the right time, but I’d hoped to be brought into the world by something that sounds more friendly.
Mother?
Okay. I don’t like this. You’re not answering me. I can feel your hand on me, but it isn’t moving. You’re hurt—I know it. Well, I’m staying right here until someone tells me that you’re fine and will be there to welcome me.
I mean, we’ve planned this carefully. Labor was going to be induced on October the fourteenth, I was going to arrive with a minimum of fuss, we were going to enjoy a quiet night in the hospital, then spend the rest of our lives together doing tax returns, payroll reports, financial statements and all those other things that keep Endicott Accounting in business.
So don’t expect cooperation from me. See there? I’m crossing my arms. Just try to get me out of here and see what happens. If I don’t hear your voice, I’m not coming.
