Mine Are Spectacular! by Janice Kaplan

the animals worriedly. Nine months of trying to have the perfect pregnancy may be over, but new mother mania has kicked in and a hazard lurks behind every teddy bear. Is the stuffing safe? Is the fur flame-retardant? Are the button eyes sewn in securely so the kids won’t swallow them? Buttons are already Berni’s biggest bugaboo. She swore off normal blouses a month ago and had Chanel custom make a dozen shirts with Velcro.
    Kirk’s gift reminds me that I have a little something for Berni, too. I pull out a pretty box and plop it next to Berni.
    â€œChocolate truffles,” I tell her.
    â€œOoooh. How perfect.” Berni pops one in her mouth, savors it for a moment, and breaks into a smile.
    â€œThree flavors,” I say proudly. “I made them for you last night. I’ve been playing around with the recipe for weeks.”
    â€œAidan, honey, come take one. I’ve never tasted anything this good,” Berni says.
    Aidan sidles over, still holding one baby in each arm. He shifts a hip forward and tries to snatch a chocolate without dropping a baby. Doesn’t work. He jiggles around, reconfiguring the babies, one higher, one lower, but he’s still not any closer to a chocolate.
    â€œPut Baby A down,” Berni says helpfully.
    â€œI’ve been wanting to for the last half hour,” Aidan says mournfully. “I can’t quite figure out how.”
    Kirk and I step forward and each rescue a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket from Aidan’s aching arms. “Aren’t these babies the cutest?” Kirk says, jiggling his baby and smiling at me.
    â€œThe cutest,” I beam, rocking the bundle in my arms. But since there’s no pink or blue blanket to tip me off, I have to keep the compliment generic. Berni is intent on raising egalitarian, non-sexist, politically correct babies. She wants her kids to grow up free and unbound by stereotypes. It’s a good idea and it might work, at least until the twins see their first Mattel commercials.
    Aidan laughs and flops on the bed next to Berni. “Look at our friends Kirk and Sara,” he says, cuddling next to her. “What a cute couple. Maybe we should let them be the godparents.”
    â€œI’d be honored,” I say, intoxicated by the sweet baby smell that White Linen could never match. “Be a nice balance for that teenager I have at home.”
    Kirk steps back and eyes me appraisingly. “You couldn’t have a teenager,” he says. “You’re way too young for that.”
    â€œNot too young,” I say, secretly pleased that he’d think so. “But she’s not exactly my teenager either. My stepdaughter-to-be.”
    â€œYou’re getting married?” Kirk asks.
    â€œYup,” I say. “If I ever order the invitations.”
    â€œThen there’s still hope for me,” he teases. “Picking a typeface has sunk many a marriage. If the wedding doesn’t work out, call me.”
    The baby in my arms starts fussing and I hand her over to Berni. Kirk does the same, and then puts his arm around me.
    â€œI’m heartbroken you’re getting married,” he says with a wink. “But don’t forget. Everyone needs a last fling.”
    We both laugh. Kirk isn’t serious, but it’s fun to have someone flirting with me. Is that because I’ve gotten older? I used to be outraged to hear wolf whistles as I walked by a construction site. Now if a guy in a hard hat screams out after me, “Nice butt, lady!” I secretly murmur, “Thank you.”
    Across the room, Berni is happily breast-feeding and making her way through the entire box of truffles. The hospital room phone rings, and Berni hits the speaker button with her elbow. Half-a-day into motherhood and she’s already mastered multitasking.
    The voice of her rival agent pal Olivia booms into the room.
    â€œSo you delivered,” says Olivia. “Good. That’s a