The unborn baby is touching her toes with her nose. She looks a little like Musette and a little like me. That’s just what we’re guessing. An ultrasound can only say so much. Supposedly the white fluffy stuff by her head is hair. I release myself from trying to guess the kind of person that she’s going to be. Going to work helps me keep my mind off of it. I’m spending most of my time training my replacements. I’m not concerning myself with doing such a good job. I want there to be a place for me when I return.

It’s good not to have you be the only person who knows how to do something, says the accountant. You’ve got to think about the store at large, not just yourself.

I turn my attention back onto my dog, throwing him a pretzel. Little did he know, he was going to be a big brother. The baby’s going to ride you like a horse, I tell him. You better take care of her, says Musette. You’re all she’s got. Show good discipline. Show a little relaxation and love. That’s the gospel truth. That’s the gospel truth, Carl.


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