"holy fucking shit…aaaaahhhhh!!!" screamed a blonde, blue-eyed woman from the depths of the large maternity ward bed her pregnant body was currently enveloped in.  "Oww" groaned her dark-haired spouse as the blood (and with it the sensation) began to drain from the hand clutched in his wife’s.  "That looks painful" smirked his friend from the corner of the room, only to be smacked upside the head by his not nearly as amused wife.  "Hey, careful there Chris…you don’t want me to drop the munchkin here do you?".  Christine Davies sighed and conceeded the point…she couldn’t very well murder her husband while he was carrying their four month old curly haired bundle of fat.  

"Hey pregnant lady in labor over here!" screeched Paula Carlin as she redirected their attention to her current rather unfortunate state of affairs.  "Okay Paula you’re doing great, just keep pushing" called her doctor from the foot of the bed.  "Aww shut up!!  You’re not the one pushing a ten pound bowling ball out of her vagina are you?"  That effectively shut him everyone up, and Christine and Arthur resumed their positions on either side of the very bitchy pregnant woman, each silently hoping that they would retain the function of their hands when all was said and done.  Raife stood back from them, cradling little Ashley in his arms, and attempting to stop one year old Glen from pulling at her shiny black curls with the other.   

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".  With that cry, Spencer Carlin made her introduction to the world, a small, red, crying ball of fat that the doctor plopped on her mom’s chest.  Handing the scissors to Arthur, who looked closed to fainting from the pain in his hand, the doctor asked him to cut the cord connecting mother to daughter and allowed the young blue-eyed and blonde-haired mother to cradle her infant daughter in her arms.   

The rest of their family and friends crowded around to look at the new baby with the soft blonde strands streaming from her otherwise bald head, leaving a disgruntled Ashley without much of the attention that she had grown accustomed to in her four months of life.  So she did what any baby who has just lost their celebrity status would do:  she dropped a bomb in her diaper.   

"Aww Ash!!" spoke her mother as the smell of her daughter’s latest creation wafted over to her, sighing as she picked her up and began to open the now soiled diaper, watching her little one squirming and cooing happily as she was changed, a small stream of urine coming forth just as her mother went to place her hand in the diaper, soaking it.   

Spencer shot a look over to Ashley, and cried loudly.  Ashley returned the cries just as loudly.  

In baby language here is what they said:  

Spencer:  Aww, you’re such a drama queen!  Couldn’t let them pay attention to someone else for a bit?

Ashley:  Nah, but you have to admit it’s fun watching them play around with our poop.

Spencer:  Who are you, by the way?

Ashley:  I’m Ashy.  What’s your name?

Spencer:  ‘wencer, I think.  You gotta teach me how to get the timing right for hitting ‘em with the pee pee when they open up my diaper. 

Ashley:  yeah, that’s totally the shit.

Spencer:  By the way, who’s that gold-digging freak over there? (pointing at the blonde toddler who had his finger stuck up his nose)

Ashley:  Oh, that’s Glen.  I think he’s related to you though.  Ha ha.

Spencer:  What?!?  WAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!