Megan is standing at the fridge, sucking yogurt off her finger. “Sorry,” she says, sounding chagrinned. “But I really needed to get more of this. You guys sure know how to buy yogurt.”

And some primal part of me feels extremely satisfied at providing for the woman carrying my brood.

I cough violently, trying to clear that thought from my head.

“It’s okay,” Otter says, sounding nervous. “It’s—”

“I’m Megan.” She sticks her hand out toward Alice, a little bit of yogurt still left on her finger. “Megan Ridley.”

Alice doesn’t even flinch when she takes her hand. “Alice Thompson. This is my husband, Jerry. And you, my dear, are pregnant.”

Her eyes widen a little as she glances at Otter and me before looking back at Alice. “Uh, yes? Yes. I am… so pregnant.”

Another thump comes from upstairs.

We all look up at the ceiling.

The doorbell rings.

“That’s just my little sister, who I met for the first time today,” I told Alice and Jerry hastily. “Excuse us. We have to get the door.”

“That’s your what?” Alice calls after us.

“I sneezed and stuff came out onto my hand,” JJ says as soon as we open the door. He holds his hand up, and sure enough, there is stuff on it.

“Dude, you are so gross,” Creed says, sounding proud, a Baby Bjorn attached to his chest, AJ’s eyes wide and bright. He looks like a little Creed, and I’m sure Anna just loves it.

“JJ,” Anna scolds. “Give me your hand so I can clean it.”

“But I don’t want you to clean it,” he says. “I want to keep it.”

“Sorry,” Creed says, though he’s grinning. “Kids, right?”

“Kids,” I squeak. “As in plural. Otter, I think I’m about to die.”

“You’re not dying,” Otter says, though he doesn’t sound very sure. “I promise.”

Anna narrows her eyes at us as she fights JJ to wipe the remnants of his sneeze off his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Today is weird,” I say, sounding slightly manic. “Like, you don’t even know how weird. I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”

“He’s not dying,” Otter insists. “He wouldn’t dare leave me now.”

AJ screeches, waving his chubby fists in the air.

“Is that my grandchildren I hear?” Jerry says from somewhere behind us.

“Grandpa!” JJ shrieks, pulling away from Anna and knocking against our legs as he pushes between us. “Mom wouldn’t let me keep my sneeze ghost!”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Jerry says cheerfully. “But your grandma made cookies. We should go see if we can steal one.”

“As long as they aren’t oatmeal raisin,” JJ says. “Because those are the worst.”

“They are Tyson’s favorite, and this is his surprise party,” Jerry reminds him.

“His parties are gross,” JJ says. “We always have to eat food that looks like my sneeze ghosts.”

“Ah, things make much more sense.”