If You Dream it You Can Achieve It. Maybe.
Harry is industriously shoving a doll under his shirt. "I. Ah put..ting this baby uh-, baby uh-nur my shir' so. It. Can. Gu-woe," he declares to the room at large in his peculiar start and stop enunciation. It's an idea that is very well received by the other two three-year-olds. In seconds, all three older boys have similar lumps in their fronts. "We're just waiting for our babies, so they can be borned." George explains to Zach, who watches, intrigued, and pokes the occasional lump. "I'm geh-in fa', because my bay. My bay-be is growin'. And tha', makes me fah-at." "Yeah, he's growing, and soon you will be so fat, and that will mean he's getting ready to be born." George pats Harry's bump. Darcy echoes George, and pats his own bump. "He's getting ready. My baby's still in my tummy. He's sleepin' in my tummy. But sometimes he wakes up and gives me a kick." "MY baby is a girl!" declares Harry. "And you can sing to your baby in there," Darcy declares. "First I will sing," George agrees, "and now I'm resting, because my baby makes me tired." "Yes. Babies make a mommy tired," Harry nods sagely. "You know what, guys?" George observes. "When we grow up, we will be good mommies."