We'll Burn That Bridge When We Get To It

the server said, "okay, here's a baby. no, really, an actual baby: fragile, new to the world, and alone. not only that, it's your baby. they're hungry, they're stumbling, they're trying so hard to live against all the impossible odds. and since they're your baby, you are the only one who can keep them alive. if you don't care for them, they'll die. it will be of neglect, plain and simple, because they're a baby.

oh, and they love you back, by the way. this is your baby and they toddle by your heels and babble at you (with signs) as they try, usually, to do what you tell them to do. they do this because you're their parent, it's clear that they love you. eventually, they start talking and they call you apa, abuelo, mama, dada -- and then they tell you, to your face, that they love you.

you fed them, played with them, protected them, tucked them into bed in a room in your home. you sang them to sleep, bathed them, dressed them, taught them skills and morals. you can see yourself reflected in their personality, their interests, and even how they look (leo's red hat/chayanne in the skull 'fit). they're your baby."