"Can you believe her?" Lois asked. "I don't see how she can call herself a reporter."

Clark smiled. "I don't know. Cookie seems like a fine reporter to me."

"Okay, first of all, what moron names their kid after food and second of all, a fine reporter? Just look at her," she said, pointing at the TV. "That woman wouldn't last 5 minutes in a real newsroom. She's paid to sit there and look pretty, while she reads news that people have gotten for her. You take away her script and she's got the IQ of a grape, no excuse me, of a cookie."

Clark laughed as he switched off the TV.

She looked at him in confusion. "It's 6:00. You can't be ready for bed already."

He put his arms around her. "Don't get me wrong, I love listening to you fuss about TV reporters, but I thought we could do something besides watching the 6:00 news for once. You know a break in routine. And who said anything about going to bed?"

She smiled as he pushed her down on the couch. "What about the schedule?"

They'd been trying to have a child for almost a year now. They were starting to get into schedules, home remedies, etc. They knew full well it was possible that they couldn't even have children because of Clark's heritage, but they weren't ready to give up yet.

He smiled. "I'm not bucking the schedule, but it's still a few days away. No reason why we can't get a little practice in."

"You make a good point."

They hadn't gotten very far when there was a knock at the door. "Hold that thought," he told her. He buttoned his shirt back up.

She pulled the shirt back over her head. "I bet if we'd been watching Cookie, nobody would have dared disturb us."

He pulled the door open, trying to keep the smile off his face and Lois peered interestedly over the couch. It was Lana and a little boy. Lois stood up in surprise and joined Clark. They hadn't seen Lana in years.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Lana said.

Lois couldn't help, but think that Lana didn't look very sorry.

"Can we help you?" Clark asked curiously, his brain racking for reasons why Lana would possibly call on them.

The little boy squeaked pass Clark and Lois and sat himself onto the couch, turning on the TV. Lois shook her head in amusement. He certainly had no qualms about making himself at home in someone else's place, but then again she remembered making herself at home in a stranger's house a time or two.

Lana had made her way in as well and shut the door behind her. "There's no easy way to say this."

"Then just say it," Lois said in exasperation. She hated when people pussyfooted around. It didn't soften the blow. It just wasted time. Of course, some people might accuse her of being too blunt, but at least it got things over and done with.

"Clark, that's your son."

TBC