You went to a maximum security prison for the criminally insane. You sat down and picked the phone as you stare at him through the glass, Bryson your husband. “Did you sign them?” you asked. “Sign what?” he asked. “Don’t play dumb, the divorce papers.” you roll your eyes. When you said that, he reached out for his pocket, expecting the papers but instead he pulled out two baby onesies, one blue one pink. “I’m going to be the be dad, you have my word.” he said promisingly.