Cool! Can we keep it?"
Oliver Garvey, a full minute older than his identical eight year old twin, Owen, peeked into the basket and fell in love. The baby was a girl. He knew, because her blanket was pink. So were her pajamas, but the note that was safety pinned to them was written on yellow paper. It read: Please take care of me. Since Oliver was oldest, and therefore smartest, he said, "Duh. Of course we're gonna keep it. What kind of dummy are you?"
"Don't call me a dummy," Owen said, almost falling off the neighborhood park's merry go round while making a fist. "You're a dummy."
"Can I name her?" their seven year old neighbor and friend, Dillon Tate, asked. "I always wanted a baby, but Dad says they're loud and smelly."
"She doesn't seem loud or smelly to me," Owen said.
"Just wait till she poops." Oliver sniffed the part of her blanket where the stinky stuff would be. "I saw in a movie one time where babies poop a lot. We're going to have to find some diapers."
read full excerpt from Three Boys and a Baby ebook
