Dear Baby…

Dear Baby,

I know it’s crowded and probably boring in there, and I have no idea how you’ve been smuggling stuff in without my knowledge, but please no more stuff, ok? It’s going to be really awkward already when, along with your placenta, I have to deliver your jiu-jitsu manuals, your espresso machine, and all the stuff from last night’s roller disco party. Also, you’ve only got two months left on the lease; any chance you can stop messing with the thermostat?

Love,

–Your Mother

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