I bounce Jack on my lap, his face lighting up with each jostle.

I love that these kids take so much joy in such simple little things. But honestly, it makes me see the joy in the little things.

"Jack," I say, and his dark eyes focus on me. "Can you say, 'Dada'?" He grins at me, tiny bottom teeth poking out. "Say 'Dada.'" He laughs at me and I shake my head. Monica keeps telling me it'll probably be a while before either of them are able to actually speak, but I figure it can't hurt to put the words out there, maybe give him some ideas.

I stand up suddenly, lifting him straight over my head, his little body going taut, his legs straight out behind him. "It's Super Baby, here to save the day!" Jack laughs, a huge smile on his face as I zoom him around, trying to make heroic noises. "Super Baby strikes fear in the hearts of villains! Super Baby—able to melt the hearts of women with a single glance! SUPER BABY TO THE RESCUE AHHHHH!"

Jack's laughter bounces across the room and I can't even complain when a thin line of drool drips down onto me. On the whole, my kids seem pretty happy. Granted, they haven't been alive for a year yet, but even with the two of them being occasionally grumpy with their teeth coming in and the general aches and pains that come along with learning how to be a little person, they're always full of smiles and giggles, and most days, I feel like my whole world revolves around just that.

I zip him around the room for a few more minutes—close to the floor, along the walls, above my head—making noises for him, making faces, anything to get him to laugh some more.

"It scares the crap out of me when you do that."

I make a screeching noise as we come to a stop in front of Monica, Jack still stretched out in his superhero pose. "It's the one thing that can stop Super Baby in his tracks—the dreaded Mommy-saurus! Quick, Super Baby—attack her with your Cute Rays!" I move Jack's face close to hers and make snarfing noises, and even though she tries not to, Monica starts laughing.

"You win this time, Super Baby," she concedes as Jack drools against her face. "But next time, victory is mine!" She turns her face and starts kissing him rapidly, and he scrunches up as he gets tickled, giggling.

I take pity on my son and pull him away, settling him against my hip. "How's everybody feeling?" I ask, reaching out first to stroke the hair off Monica's head, then to gently rub Erica's back.

"We're tired," Monica sighs, and I know she means herself, Erica, and the baby.

"Want me to take her?" I offer, and Monica gives me a doubtful look. "I know—I just want to help."

Erica was up a good chunk of the night, cranky about her gums. She must be cutting several teeth at once because this is the first time she's been truly distraught over it. I tried to be helpful; I sat up with her, hoping she'd finally wear herself out, trying to let Monica sleep because she's still exhausted. But, naturally, all Erica wanted was her mother, and even then, she'd only sleep if Monica was holding her. I woke up this morning to find the two of them curled up on the couch, an infomercial on the TV.

Incidentally, the only time Erica doesn't sleep on her back with her limbs spread every which way is when she's under the weather; then, she curls into a little ball and presses herself into her mother's chest. Even though it's heartbreaking to see her that way, it's still one of the sweetest things in the world.

"Baba?" Jack asks, looking at Monica, who nods, looking as if she's thinking it over.

"Interesting theory," she tells him.

"Ehh!" This time he points at his sleeping sister, and even though I know he's mostly just making sounds at this point, I feel a little rush of pride, almost as if he knows that "Erica" starts with an "E."

"Erica doesn't feel good, buddy," I tell him, and he makes a face, smacking his hands against my arms. "I know; it's upsetting to us, too." He sighs, sounding almost frustrated, and I get the unnerving feeling that he's actually trying to say something, but he just can't speak the language. He's such a smart little guy; you can actually watch him figure things out, mentally connecting the dots, whether it's how to hold a spoon or which shapes go in which holes. It's really quite impressive. While Erica is impulsive, barreling headfirst into everything, getting mad when things don't go her way, Jack is extraordinarily patient. He's already the sort that would rather do something once right than try over and over, wearing himself out. I think, as they get older, Jack will be the one who's able to talk his sister off a ledge, who will explain the things that she's gotten so frustrated about that she thinks she can't understand them. Unfortunately, Erica will be the one talk to him into whatever harebrained schemes she comes up with.

That's not to say that Jack doesn't have his moments where he gets frustrated with the world around him—though that usually happens when he's attempting something his little body just isn't capable of yet—or that Erica isn't smart, because she is; she's just not methodical the way her brother is. Erica talks the most right now, but we're pretty sure Jack will be the one to speak coherently first.

I'm pretty sure Jack is actually a tiny adult.

Monica moves over to the couch almost zombie-like and I can't help but feel awful—no matter how much we want it, I still did this to her. She doesn't see it that way, of course; she insists that we were both very active participants in getting her pregnant, and she says she doesn't care how exhausted she is any given point, she won't complain. I guess I can understand why she feels that way—it seems ridiculous to complain about something we tried so hard for and that we want so much, but pregnancy looks really hard.

Amazingly, though, it looks really good on her; she may be the walking dead right now, but she still glows all over. And though she won't show off her burgeoning stomach in public much yet, at home she usually wears some sort of formfitting shirt that clings to her and the baby, more than happy to advertise that she's pregnant. It's the most fantastic thing I've ever seen, and I can't keep my hands off her belly.

She looks over at me, and without a word I see her dilemma; I go over and take her arm, helping balance her and Erica as she eases down onto the couch. Erica never even flinches, her mouth hanging open as she naps on her mother's shoulder. I sit down next to her, standing Jack on my thigh so that he's facing Monica.

"Can I get you anything?"

She shakes her head wearily, leaning toward me a little. I lean the rest of the way, meeting her in a kiss which is promptly interrupted by Jack yanking Monica's hair. She cringes and I grab his fingers, pulling Monica's hair free. "No Jack," I tell him and he looks at me wide-eyed, as if he's trying to understand why I would possibly reprimand him.

"He probably needs a nap," she tells me around a yawn.

"He's not the only one," I answer, looking at her pointedly.

"I will, I will. As soon as we get off the phone with your parents, I promise I'll go lie down."

Today's the day we finally tell my parents about the new baby. We probably would have told them before the gang, but it's nearly impossible to get my mother and father on the phone at the same time. As it is, we had to arrange for it separately; my mother will be calling any minute, and then we'll have to call my father on the three-way so we can tell them at the same time.

It turns out that it can be incredibly complicated trying to give people good news; someone will inevitably wind up hurt that they weren't the first ones told, but short of having another wedding, I don't know how we'd get everyone together again.

Right on time, our phone starts to ring, the caller ID letting us know it is, in fact, my mother. I press the speaker button so we both can hear. "Hey, Mom."

"Hi, honey," she answers brightly. "How are you?"

"I'm good." I look over at Monica and she shrugs, trying to tell me that she's okay, no matter how sluggish she may feel right now. "We're good."

"Is Monica there?"

"Hi, Mrs.—Nora." Monica has had the worst time calling my parents by their first names, though I suspect part of that is because we see them so infrequently.

"How are my grandchildren?"

"They're great—look, hang on a second, will you, Mom?" I hit the hold button and dial my father's number, hoping he'll answer quickly.

Fortunately, the odds are with us today, and my father's odd, raspy voice answers. "Hi, Chandler." Ever since Monica convinced me to invite him to the wedding and, by extension, back into my life, he's been very responsive to any and all communication I've had with him. When he found out that he was going to be a grandparent—though we're still not entirely sure if he'll be "grandma" or "grandpa"—he was ecstatic, and has already been out here to see the twins a handful of times. I'm not sure if he's trying to make up for my childhood or if it's just natural, but he's really good at being a grandparent.

My mother, on the other hand, means well, and has definitely toned it down for them, but I'm pretty sure that once the kids are older, she'll be the grandparent they go to when they want to do something no sane adult would permit.

"Hi Dad."

"Hi…Charles," Monica adds, letting him know she's here.

"Bahbahbahgah!"

My father gasps, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Was that Jack or Erica?"

"That would be Jack."

"Hello, handsome boy. Grandpa misses you."

Monica and I raise our eyebrows at each other and mouth, "Grandpa?" I guess we've figured out who he's planning to be. "Hang on for a second, Dad." I push a few more buttons on the phone, hopefully managing to connect all three lines. "Okay, I think we're all here."

"We?" I hear my mother ask.

"Hello, Nora."

"…Charles."

I shake my head in wonder; it's amazing that after all these years, they're still mad about the same things. Of course, I'm not one to talk, really; it wasn't that many years ago that I started trying to move on from my childhood.

"Okay!" I interrupt, and Monica's fingers slide in between mine. I squeeze her hand gratefully. "We have some news for you guys, actually."

Their voices trip over each other as they fire off questions, trying to one-up each other, each trying to prove they care more than the other.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Monica finally says. "Everything's fine. Chandler and I are fine; no, we're not getting divorced or separated or having problems. The twins are good, we both still have our jobs and our house, no one is sick, no one has died." I look at her in wonder, amazed that she managed to catch that many questions.

"Actually, what we have is really great news. Monica's pregnant."

There's complete silence on both ends for a few moments before excited chatter spews out from the phone. Jack claps his hands at all the noise, and Erica's eyes pop open, her head lifting off Monica's shoulder for a moment before closing her eyes once more, asleep again in an instant.

"Tell us everything," I hear my father command, and surprisingly, my mother doesn't object.

"Well, we don't have any specifics; we don't know if it's a boy or a girl, but we do know that it's healthy. Monica's doing well, too. No problems so far."

"How far along are you?" my mother asks.

"Just over four months," Monica answers, the inevitable grin spreading across her face.

"I was just out there a month ago—" my father starts.

"Me, too!" my mother adds in.

"Does that mean you knew then?"

"You knew then and you didn't tell either of us?"

I hang my head and sigh; I knew this would an issue. Monica squeezes my fingers again and answers for us. "Well, we wanted to tell you together; we didn't think it'd be fair to tell one of you, then the other a couple of weeks after. We actually just told our friends the other day, but we would have told you sooner if we could have gotten you both on the phone at the same time before now. Plus, you know, I've been really anxious about telling people. The doctor says we're fine, but given my circumstances…"

"Don't you worry, darling," my mother tells her. "You'll be fine. Bings make very strong, tough babies. I was on bed rest for the last three months I was pregnant with Chandler."

Well, that's new. "You were? I never knew that."

"You came out perfectly healthy; that was all that mattered."

"Oh, but those were a horrible few months, weren't they, Nora? Chandler, your mother and I were so scared that whole time."

"What was it?" Monica asks, her hand leaving mine to gently rub her belly.

"Preeclampsia," my mother answers. "A mostly mild case. But we were first time parents, so of course we panicked. But Chandler turned out just fine, and only a couple of weeks early."

"It's not genetic," my father chimes in, answering the question I could already see forming on Monica's lips. "It's just a high-blood pressure thing, so don't worry too much about it."

"When's the baby due?" my mother asks.

"End of July, beginning of August," I answer, putting my now free hand on the baby bump, too. "Hey, we sent off some copies of the sonogram pictures and some other stuff to you guys yesterday, just in case you want it."

"Of course we want it," my father answers. "The more pictures of our grandchildren the better."

"I think I speak for your father when I say that we both want to come out and visit before the baby comes, and definitely soon after."

"Will you two be able to possibly visit at the same time? Without being at each other's throats, I mean."

There's just the briefest moment of hesitation before they both answer, "Of course."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, looking over at Monica; her head is thrown against the back of the couch, her eyes closed, her breathing deep. I look down at Jack and see he's reclined against my stomach, his little fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, which usually means he's getting sleepy.

"Hey, guys; I'm sorry I have to end this so soon, but Erica was up most of the night teething, and Monica was up with her—"

"Say no more," my mother interrupts. "Go take care of your family. Give us a call in a day or two and we'll talk some more."

"We'll let you know when we get the pictures."

I find it amusing that after all these years being divorced, they still manage to sound like an old married couple with the "we" and the "us." I guess when it comes to your kids, some things never really change.

"Okay; we love you guys."

"I love you, too," they answer in tandem and a moment later, I hear the dial tone. I nudge Monica and her eyes blink at me sleepily.

"Upstairs," I tell her and she nods, standing without protest. I make her walk up the stairs in front of me in case she decides to fall asleep standing up, which she has already done more than once, even though she denies it vehemently.

I steer her into the nursery and over to Erica's crib, where she fortunately goes down without protest. Maybe she's over the hump for now.

She leans over and presses a sleepy kiss to the side of Jack's head; mostly asleep already, he snuffles for a moment, rubbing his face against my shirt, before sighing, his tiny body relaxing. I lay him down in his crib, and he immediately turns over, settling onto his stomach. I put my arm around Monica's shoulders and lead her down the hall to our room. She pulls back the comforter and immediately slides in, her hand capturing mine, giving me a tug. I only have to think about it for a moment before I crawl in next to her; even if I don't wind up sleeping, I'd still rather get to spend this time with her like this than tooling around the house on my own.

Her arm slides around my waist as she turns into me a little, her bump against my hip.

"Good thing it was another pajama kind of day," she mumbles against my shoulder.

I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. "Good thing."

"Hey, what do you think, if it's a boy, we name it after your father?"

"You want to name the baby Charles?"

"It's just a thought."

"No, it's a nice thought, but I think he'd rather we name the kid 'Helena.'"

"Nope," she answers without hesitation. "What about Charles as a middle name?"

"Hmm. That could be okay."

She hums against my neck, her body relaxing even more. "Good."

"Yeah, we've decided on a middle name for one gender; the hard part is truly over." I feel her fingers pinch my side and I twist away from her a little. "Ow!"

"Don't pick on a pregnant woman. I have tears and I know how to use them."

"Go to sleep, pregnant woman," I tell her, bringing the comforter over her shoulders. Her deep breathing lets me know that she's already fast asleep.

*A/N…yeah. Fluff. Pointless fluff. But I wanted Chandler's parents to find out, too.

Also, as a sidebar, I've decided that Emma's birthday is at the end of February—if Rachel was only a month pregnant in the middle of May, and then gave birth late, that would put Emma's birth in the middle of winter, not summer. This would also make sense for when, at the end of season nine, Monica mentions that she and Chandler have been trying to get pregnant for over a year. Incidentally, it would also mean that Chandler was in Tulsa for the better part of a year, even if he manage to push it back to the end of March or something. Just something to think about.