“Baby? I am not a baby.”“No, I know. It’s…a term of endearment. It’s like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’. It just means I love you.”“If you say so, but it is strange, to call the woman you love as a baby. But then, Americans are strange.”

“So I have. Let me hold the baby, Scarlett. Oh, I know how to hold babies. I have many strange accomplishments. Well, he certainly looks like Frank. All except the whiskers, but give him time.”“I hope not. It’s a girl.”

“and will I like being called a jazz baby? --You will love it.”

“My love is like a crumbly cookie. It’s very hard to give all of it to just one person. Try as I might to give it all to just one woman, crumbs break off here and there in meaningless crushes and kisses and—but what am I saying? Baby, you know you’re the only one I’ve given my cookie to. Can I get you a tall glass of milk?”

“I don’t think I’ll be worth shit as a father, but I’m going to be here for you and our baby until the day I die. I want you to know that I was relieved that our baby is fine, and I was devastated when I thought you might have miscarried. I’m sorry; I was a jackass because I was scared shitless. When you fell, I was terrified that I’d lost you both. I want you to have the baby Delilah. I love you more than anything, and I’ll love the baby too. How can I not when it’s a part of you?”

“Falling in love should be natural, like the food at Moe’s. Baby, I am so hungry for you, even though I know queso costs extra.”