Jacquline in Natter:
Damn. Now all the baby talk has reminded me of a lethal cuteness bomb I saw this morning in the elevator. Filipina-American, tiny tiny tiny, with a growing-out bob, wearing her mother's big flannel coat with the sleeves wrapped all the way around her and a teddy bear tucked into the sleeviness somewhere, those sneakers with the little red lights that light up when you step down hard, a knit cap that said DR. PEPPER. She wanted to press the elevator buttons, and she kept bouncing up and down and making her shoes twinkle. She was so cute that my ovaries actually leapt out my throat, wrapped their little arms around my neck, and started banging my head against the wall, screaming in their little ovarian voices, "Breed, you silly fuck! BREED!"
Well, not actually, but it felt that way.