Parenting

Steven and I are lying in bed listening to the rain thunk on the air conditioner. We have yet to take it out of the window even though it is now mid-October.
"No baby yet," I say.
"Nope," says Steven.
"It's good," I say. "I'm not sure I'm ready yet. I need a few more weeks."
"Well, nothing we can do it about it now," he says. "One way or another we're going to be parents."
He starts to laugh at the word parents.
"Parents," I say, and begin giggling.
"They really should give you a test," Steven says. "Or at least a quiz."
I heave myself into a sitting position, which requires first propping myself up on my elbows and then gathering enough momentum in my torso to push myself upright.
"Is it bad that we can't say 'parents' without laughing?" I ask.
Steven shrugs.
"Parents," he says.