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"You're stressing way too much, Paterson: you contribute where necessary, IF necessary;
other than that, you provide birthday gifts, graduation gifts, that kind of thing.

Rich says, a little 'pouty', "I guess that leaves ME out."

DEEP sight from Tasha. "Rich, you're giving me a headache, okay? If Paterson is Nat's GodMother, and
you and she will be Parents someday, so, GOD HELP ME, you have to be included by default."

Rich is ecstatic. "Day by day, she who shall not be named, you are getting closer and closer to BEING NAMED.
Very, VERY soon."

"Yeah, Yeah...Paterson, can you crack that wine-the red, please? Nat will be down for at least two hours."

They chat, joking and gossiping as good, trusting friends do. Tasha broaches the subject of the data geeks'
attempts to conceive. "How is that going?

Blushing, Paterson grins and replies, "It's going...he may be a stubby, chunky, bulky little three-quarters talented
egomaniac ("Easy!", cautions Rich), but he's not half-bad in the bed-sheets...capable, actually."

"Rich Dot Com! Swinging the dick!" Tasha and Paterson bump fists.

"Don't I get a 'dap'?", asks Rich.

The two Women dap him, and the three continue their gab-fest.

Paterson is curious about something: "Are you and Edgar going to have another one?"

"He wants another...probably when Nat is a year, or fifteen months or so. I LOVE being a will you," she assures Paterson.

This from Paterson: "Rich...are you CRYING?

"NO! Something in my eye!"