The Boy

“Ryan and Jamie are coming by with the girls,” I informed Mom, who muttered “That’s nice,” her head buried in the latest issue of Good Housekeeping.

“They should be here in about a half an hour,” I said, heading into the kitchen to sneak a taste of the Pork Carnitas Bill had simmering in the crockpot.

“Are they coming today?” she called after me.

“Yes, today,” I yelled back. “They’ll be here soon.”

After a pause to flip the page, she asked, “How many do they have?”

“How many kids? Two,” I replied loudly before blowing on the meat I’d scooped out of the pot.

“And what are their names again?” she shouted.

I slipped the tidbit of hot pork into my mouth, replaced the lid on the crockpot and walked back into the living room. “Olivia and Morgan,” I answered. “Olivia’s four and Morgan’s one.”

“And which ones the boy?” she asked, looking up.

“Neither of them. They’re both girls.”

“No they’re not,” she argued. “One of them is a boy.”

“No, I’m sure Ryan and Jamie would know if they
had a son instead of a daughter.”

“Then who’s got the boy?” she asked.

“Dana and Allen have a girl and a boy. Amber and Jack.”

“So which ones the boy?”

“The one with the boy’s name – Jack. Amber’s a girl.”

“Okay, I knew there was a boy around somewhere. And when will they be here?”

“Ryan and Jamie will be here soon. Dana and Allen are out of town.”

“Okay. And which ones the boy?”

boy

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