'Fess up. Between this and having Tim kill Scott off, you have a fiendish plan to become a footloose and fancy-free single gal again while casting suspicion elsewhere, don't you?

Hee! Are you bugging my house, Matt? I *just* told Scott I needed to get my own apartment.

I don't need to bug your house. I just consult our shared brain.

You should be having a nice glass of wine about now, then, sweetie. Our brain had a horrible, no good, very bad day.

Edited to clarify...despite the very bad day, the comment to dh about getting my own place was a joke. He'd certainly hunt me down and drag me back, if I tried.

Heh, I don't know if I want to get rid of my firstborn, even for the Bellagio. She's only becoming a rational human now. Of course, she is 25 and might have something to say about the deal, too.

White Slavery. It's the answer.

No, no, I'm still lost in the contemplation of the Bellagio's conservatory, with all the gorgeous rare flowers and the lovely roof, and how all it's been missing lo, these many moons, was an altar dedicated to sacrificing one's firstborn child to some hideous antique child-munching deity.

Or not....

Deb, how about we sacrifice the office workers at the first (and subsequent) born's Pedi office? It's a win win situation.

It's a win win situation.

That would work.

Then we can we sacrifice George I and Barbara's firstborn to Baal?

Please? I'll play a guitar and sing Kumbaya.

I don't think Baal likes that song...

I don't think Baal likes that song...

Sing it backwards. "Ayabmuk, m'lord, Ayabmuk..."