The sun had barely risen when the twins were finally ready to leave the hospital. Marnie, cradling one baby, and Michael, holding the other, stepped out of the hospital doors into the crisp morning air. Michael’s eyes darted around constantly, scanning for any potential hazard—the way the sunlight hit the pavement, the distance between them and passing cars, even the angle of the car door they were about to open.
“Michael, relax,” Marnie whispered, adjusting the blanket around one twin. “They’re just babies. We’ll be careful.”
Michael turned to her, eyes wide and serious. “Marnie… careful is not enough. Every step, every movement must be calculated. I’ve read manuals on safe baby transport. There’s no margin for error!”
Marnie laughed softly. “You sound like a drill sergeant.”
“I am a
