Gaining a Daughter, Losing a Son

I put the nozzle to the girl’s mouth, and it stuck there. Then I started pumping, and with each pump the girl grew significantly older. I stopped when she looked about twelve, and yanked the nozzle loose.

She was the same girl, Janie, that had crawled inside me a couple of days ago—just younger. She blinked and looked down at herself. “Thanks, mommy!”

I gawked. ”’Mommy’?”

“Well, you are, now,” she said matter-of-factly. “That was freaky!”

Disquietingly, I found I actually did have the beginnings of a sort of maternal feeling toward her—like she was my responsibility. I tried to ignore it.

I looked at the boy baby. He glared back. “I know you can understand me,” I said. “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna put you up for adoption. I hope you enjoy the next twenty years of growing up again. Potty training, grade school, high school, puberty…after what you did to me, you deserve every minute of it.”

He couldn’t help it. He started to cry.

I turned to the girl. “And as for you…

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