A 65-year-old good friend of mine simply had a child—due to fashionable fertility miracles! I went to go to her as quickly as she received dwelling from the hospital.
“Can I see the infant?” I requested.
“Not but,” she mentioned. “Let’s have some espresso first.”
Half an hour handed. I requested once more.
“Not but.”
A couple of extra minutes glided by.
“Okay… can I see the infant now?”
“Not but.”
Lastly, I couldn’t take it anymore. “WHEN can I see the infant?!”
She threw up her fingers and mentioned:
“WHEN HE CRIES! I FORGOT WHERE I PUT HIM!”
