S6 E2
"Hey Sophie," Dean tried to sound like he had his act together. He tried not to sound like he was panicking. No need to scare her. It was just a baby, after all.
"What's wrong?" The worry lacing her tone was evident even in those two words.
"Nothing's wrong," Dean assured her "We just…"
"Are you okay? Is Sam okay?" She cut him off, the words coming in a rush.
"No, Sophie, everybody's fine," Dean said, "We just…found ourselves looking after a kid. A baby. And I…don't know what to do with it. Could you…maybe give us some pointers?"
"You raised Sam," Sophie deadpanned.
"It was a long time ago," Dean insisted, "I was six."
"And I was eight when my sister was born," Sophie reminded him, "Maternal instincts kick in when you're actually in proximity to a baby you're related to. They don't magically give you knowledge about some mystery non-relative baby over the phone. You know that right?"
"Yes, but you read all those books back in Arkansas when we were…"
"Don't you bring that up in front of Sam!" Sophie snapped.
"Sorry, sorry," Dean backpedaled, "You're smart. You're female. Tell us what you've got."
"So you actually want all my hippie advice on what to do with the baby? Or do you want me to tell you what size diapers to buy and how long formula is good after you mix it and how the APA says its supposed to sleep?" Sophie asked bluntly, "Because I'm assuming you're not going to be tracking down donated breastmilk and amber teething beads and a baby sling?"
Dean sighed.
"How long does formula stay good once you mix it?" He asked in defeat.
"Says on the back of the box," Sophie assured him, "Call me if there's something you can't figure out. You know how to hold it…right?"
"Of course I know how to hold it!" Dean insisted.
"Have fun!" Sophie said and then she hung up.