A conversation overheard this morning, after Rob came downstairs in his scrubs:
Older Girl: "Dad, why are you wearing scrubs? Do you have to go to the hospital?"
Rob: "Yep. I have to help deliver a baby."
The Boy (in alarm): "Dad, I don't want you to deliver another baby. I want to keep the one we have!"
He likes her . . . he really, really likes her . . .