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April 6, 2009
Marla and Trudy stoop-stumbled into the kitchen, their still-crumby hands grabbing at the fabric of their Brownie jumpers, mouths open, tongues lolling floppy-flat and even drooling, eyes watering and almost crossing.

"Oh, what is it now, girls?" Marla's mother said, arching an eyebrow toward Trudy's. "Bubonic plague? Black fever? Cirrhosis?"

Trudy's mom swallowed her coffee. "Pregnant?" she mouthed to Marla's with a matching eyebrow arch,

"Butterflies in the stomach!" Trudy said with a sob and gasp.

"Butterflies!" Marla. "We have butterflies!"

"I don't know about that," Trudy's mom said. "This is a bit much for butterfly-stomach. Too dramatic."

Continued 4/7