Clark snagged a gingerbread cookie on his way to the phone, accepting his mother's light swat. He picked it up.
"Clark Kent here," he said, his mouth full of cookie.
"Mr. Kent?" The voice on the other end was crisp and professional.
"Yeah?"
"You're needed at the hospital-your parents, too." The person hung up.
"Who was it?" Martha asked.
"The hospital; they said we're needed there, you guys too," Clark said with a frown.
"We'd best not keep…whoever waiting," Jonathan declared, shrugging on his coat.