This story begins in the same way that all good stories begin.......
Once upon a time there lived a married couple named Fergie and Skipper Manson. Skipper was a dashing young man who had a promising job as an executive in an oil company and Fergie had recently given up her successful modeling career to care for their son, Neuton. Even after her post-birth weight gain, Fergie was still the fairest lady of all of Tulsa, Oklahoma. Everything in Fergie's and Skipper's lives was perfect....... everything except, well, to be perfectly frank, their two year old son Neuton strongly resembled a horse. So we can all imagine how thrilled they were when they discovered that God had given them a second chance, a chance to have the perfect child. One night they were lying together (in separate beds of course) discussing their soon to be born child.
"God, all we want is the perfect child," said Skipper, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the roof.
"With long blonde hair, as golden as the sun," said Fergie, looking at her own reflection in the wardrobe mirror.
"And big blue eyes, like deep pools of water."
"A little girl."
"A little boy."
"A boy!!?" Fergie sat up straight, not allowing the blanket to drop. "We already have a boy! A little girl would make the family complete."
"And not procreate for the rest of our lives? There is plenty of time for girls. Right now all we need is a son."
"One of each would be perfect," mumbled Fergie as she drifted off to sleep.
Once upon a time there lived a married couple named Fergie and Skipper Manson. Skipper was a dashing young man who had a promising job as an executive in an oil company and Fergie had recently given up her successful modeling career to care for their son, Neuton. Even after her post-birth weight gain, Fergie was still the fairest lady of all of Tulsa, Oklahoma. Everything in Fergie's and Skipper's lives was perfect....... everything except, well, to be perfectly frank, their two year old son Neuton strongly resembled a horse. So we can all imagine how thrilled they were when they discovered that God had given them a second chance, a chance to have the perfect child. One night they were lying together (in separate beds of course) discussing their soon to be born child.
"God, all we want is the perfect child," said Skipper, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the roof.
"With long blonde hair, as golden as the sun," said Fergie, looking at her own reflection in the wardrobe mirror.
"And big blue eyes, like deep pools of water."
"A little girl."
"A little boy."
"A boy!!?" Fergie sat up straight, not allowing the blanket to drop. "We already have a boy! A little girl would make the family complete."
"And not procreate for the rest of our lives? There is plenty of time for girls. Right now all we need is a son."
"One of each would be perfect," mumbled Fergie as she drifted off to sleep.