Cheaper by the Dozen

bed.
    "I had already told everybody it was going to be a boy," Dad said, a little resentfully. "But I know it's not your fault, and I think a girl's just fine. I was getting a little sick of boys, anyway. Well, this one will be named for you."
    The older children, meanwhile, were becoming curious about where babies came from. The only conclusion we had reached was that Mother always was sick in bed when the babies arrived. About four months after Lill was born, when Mother went to bed early one night with a cold, we were sure a new brother or sister would be on hand in the morning. As soon as we got up, we descended on Dad's and Mother's room.
    "Where's the baby? Where's the baby?" we shouted.
    "What's all the commotion?" Dad wanted to know. "What's got into you? She's right over there in her crib." He pointed to four-month-old Lill.
    "But we want to see the latest model," we said. "Come on, Daddy. You can't fool us. Is it a boy or a girl? What are we going to name this one? Come on, Daddy. Where have you hidden him?"
    We began looking under the bed and in a half-open bureau drawer.
    "What in the world are you talking about?" Mother said. "There isn't any new baby. Stop pulling all your father's clothes out of that drawer. For goodness sakes, whatever gave you the idea there was a new baby?"
    "Well, you were sick, weren't you?" Anne asked.
    "I had a cold, yes."
    "And every time you're sick, there's always a baby."
    "Why, babies don't come just because you're sick," Mother said. "I thought you knew that."
    "Then when do they come?" Ern asked. "They always came before when you were sick. You tell us, Daddy."
    We had seldom seen Dad look so uncomfortable. "I've got business in town, kids," he said. "In a hurry. Your Mother will tell you. I'm late now." He turned to Mother. "I'd be glad to explain it to them if I had the time," he said. "You go ahead and tell them, Lillie. It's time they knew. I'm sorry I'm rushed. You understand, don't you?"
    "I certainly do," said Mother.
    Dad hurried down the front stairs and out the front door.
    He didn't even stop by the dining room for a cup of coffee.
    "I'm glad you children asked that question," Mother began. But she didn't look glad at all. "Come and sit here on the bed.
    It's time we had a talk. In the first place, about the stork—he doesn't really bring babies at all, like some children think."
    "We knew that!"
    "You did?" Mother seemed surprised. "Well, that's fine. Er—what else do you know?"
    "That you have to be married to have babies, and it takes lots of hot water, and sometimes the doctor does things to you that make you holler."
    "But not very loud?" Mother asked anxiously. "Never very loud or very often. Am I right?"
    "No, never loud or very often."
    "Good. Now first let's talk about flowers and bees and..."
    When she was through, we knew a good deal about botany and something about apiology, but nothing about how babies came. Mother just couldn't bring herself to explain it.
    "I don't know what's the matter with Mother," Anne said afterwards. "It's the first time she's ever kept from answering a question. And Daddy went rushing out of the room like he knew where something was buried."
    Later we asked Tom Grieves about it. But the only reply we elicited from him was to: "Stop that nasty kind of talk, you evil-minded things you, or I'll tell your father on you."
    Dad assumed Mother had told us. Mother assumed she had made her point in the flowers and bees. And we still wondered where babies came from.
    Fred was born in Buttonwoods, Rhode Island, where we spent a summer. A hurricane knocked out communications and we couldn't get a doctor. A next-door neighbor who came over to help became so frightened at the whole thing that she kept shouting to Mother:
    "Don't you dare have that baby until the doctor comes."
    "I'm trying not to," Mother assured her calmly. "There's no use to get all excited. You mustn't get yourself all worked up. It's not good for you. Sit down here on the side of the bed and try to relax."
    "Who's having this baby, anyway?" Dad asked the neighbor. "A big help you are!"
    He departed for the kitchen to boil huge vats of water, most of which was never used.
    Fred, Number Eight, arrived just as the doctor did.
    Dan and Jack were born in Providence, and Bob and Jane in Nantucket. Dan and Jack came into the world in routine enough fashion, but Bob arrived all of a sudden. Tom Grieves had to pedal through Nantucket on a bicycle to find the doctor. Since