I found out my cousin’s wife was pregnant in the usual way: a photo of a pregnancy test posted on facebook. My grandma had already commented on it. I guess everyone is happy, even though my cousin’s wife just turned 21. What’s sad is that she could just start to have alcohol legally, and now she can’t drink unless she wants a broken baby. What’s crazy is that when she’s my age, she’ll have a first-grader.
Over Italian food Julianna told me she might get a puppy.
“I think I’ve almost convinced Ed,” she said. “I told him, ‘It’s better than a baby.’”
I’m not sure this newlywed-girl logic is effective. The topic turned to babies.
“I waaant one,” Jules whined. But then she told me, “When we saw Ed’s family last weekend, his cousin had a really tiny baby, like nine days old. And she just had to keep feeding it, and she had to keep a journal of every time it pooped. And it just seemed. . . hard. If I had one, my mom would have to come stay for like. . . a year.”
“I’d babysit for you,” I volunteered, “in like four years.”
Maybe Ed will just let her get that puppy.