She gives him the same still-sleepy smile that she does every day and says good morning back to him. Jim looks down at the stroller and tries not to think of anything real as he says, "Good morning, Jack. Big meeting today?"

Pam laughs, a clear laugh that he hasn't heard in awhile. She picks up her son, who is staring at Jim, drool coating his chin.

"His daycare is closed today because of a nice outbreak of pinkeye, so I had to bring him in. Don't worry, I took him to the doctor yesterday and he doesn't have it," Pam says. "It's mostly concentrated in the toddler and preschool rooms. The babies were pretty safe from it."

"Nice. United you stand, huh, Jack?" says Jim, reaching out to give him a high five. Jack's face breaks into a dimpled grin and he looks so much like Roy that Jim's insides twist.

The baby reaches out to slap him five and then buries his head in Pam's neck, as if contact with a stranger (because Jim is definitely a stranger) is too much to bear. She laughs and pats his back, swaying slightly, as though she might not even realize she's doing it, and he doesn't know how much more he can watch.

He's already turned toward his desk when Roy comes in, which seals the deal for Jim. He sets his briefcase down and flips on his computer as Roy reaches out for his son, who launches himself at Roy as if it's the most natural thing in the world, which, Jim reminds himself, it is.

"I'll take him for the morning, babe, I know you're busy and we don't have to load the next shipment until this afternoon," Roy says. Jim's not looking, but Roy says something in a silly voice, and Jack belly laughs and Jim really almost can't stand it that Roy is a fantastic father. It would be so much easier to resent him if he was a jerk, and Jim has already gone through incredible cycles of guilt for resenting the baby for split seconds. It's not his fault he exists, Jim has told himself many times in the year since the baby's birth, but the thought still stings.

He rubs his temples and pulls out his phone. He wonders what Sara is up to tonight. He pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls past Bethann, Diana, Erica, Heather, Jenn, Kerry, Maureen, past Pam to find Sara. He types his message, hits 'send' and sighs, trying to forget everything.

Emily puts down the book, a grin on her face, and he smiles at her. "Now what?" he says, muting the TV with the remote on his lap. "I keep thinking of names," she says, happily rubbing her rounded stomach.

"I thought we said Alexander or Zoe?" asks Jim, knowing full well she's changed her mind yet again. Benny had four names before they settled on Benjamin James.

"Yeah, I don't know about Zoe. That's a Muppet, and I don't want our daughter having an identity crisis with a little orange puppet. I made a new list," Emily says, reaching onto the end table for her pad of paper.

"I'll stick with Alexander, but for a girl, I love Phoebe!" she says, and Jim's smile fades and his stomach drops.

"Not Phoebe," he says, his mouth a little dry.

"Why not?" asks Emily, looking confused. "You're the one that suggested Phoebe when we were pregnant with Ben, before we decided he'd be Lucy."

Jim's mind races. How can he explain that he can't hear that name, that they might as well name their future daughter Pamela for all the weight it held in his mind? How can he tell her that it's been 541 days since he saw- no, more than just saw- interacted with a glowingly pregnant Pam at the hospital, and little Phoebe Beesly-Morrison is probably having her first birthday right about now?

He takes too long to answer and something in Emily's smile tightens. "It has to do with her, doesn't it?" she asks, and then shakes her head. "You know what? I don't want to know. Phoebe's off the list. Zoe's fine."

Jim sighs. "Em, it's not a big deal," he starts, and he doesn't know what else to say. They never talk about Pam, it's still taboo, and he knows a part of Emily still hasn't forgiven him for crying out Pam's name at an inopportune time over six years ago and what that had meant. He looks at her and she almost looks pleading, as though she needs reassurance, and that's exactly what he wants for her, because he loves her.

He slides down the couch and wraps his arms around her. "I love you, Emily Anne," he says into her hair, and he can feel her smile into his shirt. She pulls back and looks at him.

"I really do. You and that guy are the most important part of my world," he says, nodding toward the love seat where Ben is sprawled out, Thomas the Tank Engine in one hand and Percy and James in the other, oblivious to the world around him. He's snoring, his diapered bottom sticking up in the air. He's resisting potty-training, and Emily's nervous; she wants him trained before the baby comes because she doesn't want two in diapers.

These staccato thoughts run through Jim's mind as he pulls his wife to his side and turns up the volume on the TV again. He settles back into the couch cushions, thinking that he's got everything he ever wanted.

Almost.

Jim lowers himself onto the couch with a muffled groan; his bones creak as he stretches, but he is smiling. "Pam, take a break," he says softly as she bustles around the room, stuffing discarded wrapping paper and paper plates into a garbage bag.

"I definitely need a break," says Pam, and she flops right on top of him, laying her head on his chest, making him exhale with an "oof" and  he wraps his arms around her, kissing the gray patch in her hair.

They both survey the living room; detritus of the party still covers the floor, but mostly they look at their latest progeny, who is sprawled on her back, looking like a victim of some sort of crime involving cake. She has frosting in her hair and all over her face and dress but is sleeping so soundly that they don't want to move her.

 "Can you believe she's one today?" asks Pam, her voice slightly muffled by Jim's shirt. "No, she's still a newborn," says Jim, "But then again, Pat and Jane are still babies, too."

Pam laughs, and he can feel the rumble all down her chest. "I still can't believe she's real," Pam says, "But I'm so glad we have her."

"I know, even when she's screaming, I'm so happy to have a baby in the house again," says Jim, but he's teasing. She's the happiest baby, she almost never screams, and he can't imagine life without her now.

Pam pinches his side, making him start, and he chuckles, tickling her sides right where she hates it. She writhes and laughs just as Janie walks into the room, sleeping bag in hand. "Ew, gross," she says, spotting them on the couch. "You guys are so weird."

"Thanks for the input, darling daughter of mine," says Jim, but he's not mad. "Going across the street?"

"Yeah, Linden just called."

"Thanks for all your help at the party, you were fantastic," says Pam, sitting up as Jane gives her a hug and kiss goodbye. "Thank Linden for her help, too."

Jim gets his hug and kiss too, and he's happy she still does that, even if she is twelve and hip and what have you, or whatever it is the kids call it these days. Pam flops back down on him as Jane shoulders her backpack and Patrick walks past the doorway on the phone. "Oooh, Chrissy, I loooooove you," calls Janie in a falsetto as she walks through the front door, closing it behind her.

Patrick comes into the room, covering the receiver with his hand. "If I put her to bed, can I take the car to pick up Chrissy and go to Spencer's?" he asks, and Jim marvels at how good he's gotten with his requests, always offering to do something before he asked for anything, knowing how that would sweeten the deal.

"Go ahead, but be home by midnight," Pam says, and Patrick smiles Pam's grin and speaks into the phone. "Yeah, I'll be there soon. 'Bye."

He hangs up and crouches down. "Come on, Froggy," he says, and the baby blearily opens her eyes and reaches for him.

They named her Elizabeth because of the wealth of nicknames it offered, and at various times she is called Libby, Lizzie, Betsy and Eliza Doolittle; Pam has painted the "Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy and Bess" nursery rhyme on the wall of her nursery, but of course, the name she responds to most heartily is "Froggy" and they have no idea why Pat calls her that. It's a secret between brother and sister, evidently.

Pat scoops her up and offers a frosting covered cheek to Pam and Jim to kiss before he pulls her to his chest and heads upstairs. Jim hugs Pam as they leave the room, and Pat says over his shoulder, "You better knock that off. One baby is enough." 

Jim loves his son's newfound maturity, the Patrick of last year would never have joked like that. "When did our son turn forty-five?" he asks Pam, and she laughs. "He brings up a good point," she says. "Jim, would you think I was crazy if I said I wanted another baby?"

"Yes, I'd say you were the bull goose loony," he says, but he's already thinking about what she's saying.

"Seriously, I was thinking that it'd be nice for Lizzie to grow up with a close sibling, like Pat and Jane have," says Pam, and Jim hugs her. "Do we have to decide tonight?" he asks, his mind spinning with possibilities.

"Of course not. We could maybe get a dog instead," says Pam, and Jim laughs a belly laugh, making Pam bounce. "I like how a baby and a dog are interchangeable in your mind right now," he says, and Pam laughs too.

"You know what I mean," she says, and he does, he always does.

Patrick comes down the stairs again, car keys in hand and calls goodbye as he heads out the door. "Tell Chrissy's parents hello for us!" calls Jim before the door closes and the house is silent.

"No kids," says Pam. "You know what that means?"

"Oh, yes, I do," says Jim, grinning seductively at her, making her laugh as she rolls off of him. "Come on," she says. "If you're lucky, I'll put on my flannel pajamas just for you!"

"Ooh, yeah, and I'll wear my shirt that's got baby puke on it, and we'll be the sexiest couple ever," says Jim and Pam reaches out to pull him off the couch. He slips his arm around his wife's waist and guides her up the stairs. The party cleanup can wait until morning. They've got more important things on their minds tonight.

"Can you possibly be ready for this?" asks Pam, turning to look at Jim beside her. Jim laughs and shifts his bundle from one arm to the other. Patrick looks out from under the brim of his hat, and Jim swears he looks nervous. "Pam, you're scaring the baby," he says, and it's almost as if Patrick can tell something weird is going to happen.

"A-dah," says Patrick, and Pam leans over to smooch his fat cheek. "Yes, Dada's being silly," she says, and Jim shakes his head as Pam rings the doorbell. "I can't believe we got roped into this," Jim says, and Pam shoots him an apologetic look. 

The door opens and Michael is standing there, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. "Oh my God, what's wrong?" asks Pam, and Jim's heart thuds.

"Nothing! Everything is so right!" Michael says. "The world is so beautiful through the eyes of a child!" He happily rubs his tears away and snots into his sleeve a little, which is really gross.

"Come in, come in," he says, indicating the foyer. "Look at the little big man!" he says, waving at Patrick, who stares at him. Michael points to the small guest bath. 'We're having visitors scrub up before they come in," he says, and Jim and Pam nod, taking turns holding the baby while they wash their hands.

"Hi Jan," both Pam and Jim say in unison as they enter the living room. Jan is there, tucked up on the sofa with a little bundle in her arms. Pam's true delight is evident in her voice as she moves over to them and exclaims, "She's adorable! What did you decide to name her?"

Michael stands proudly next to Jan. "Michelle," he says, and Jan shoots him a look. "Michaela," he says, and Jan sighs loudly. "Her name is Peyton Quinn," she says, smiling down at the baby.

"Jan felt that an ambidextrous name was best," says Michael helpfully, and Jim and Pam nod. Jim has to admit, the baby is really cute, and he leans Patrick down for a look. "Bee-bee," he says, reaching out to touch her, and Jan moves her away quickly.

"Whoops, no touching without hand sanitizer," she trills, and Michael pulls a bottle of Purell from his pocket and offers it around. Jim takes some, but he's not putting it on his son. He appreciates Pam's laid-back style of motherhood even more on occasions like this.

"Was the delivery hard?" asks Pam, mostly to Jan, but Michael answers first. "Oh, it was so painful, I thought it would never end!"

Jan ignores Michael and speaks to Pam, who sits in an offered chair. "I had the epidural, so it wasn't as bad as it could be. And I was only in labor for eight hours. Michael's mother said she was in labor with him for fifty-six hours."

Pam's eyes widen and she crosses her legs, which makes Jim want to go over and kiss her just so she won't look so shocked. Jan smiles up at Michael, who shrugs modestly. "I guess I liked my waterbed in there!" Jim doesn't know what to say to that.

"Just look at what Dwight gave us at the birth," Michael says, holding up a tiny t-shirt that says "Happy Accident" and Jim laughs. He would expect nothing less of Dwight, who was the most literal person he's ever known, perhaps with the exception of Michael.

"Wow. So she was born on Sunday the 3rd?" asks Pam, and Jan nods, smiling. "That's Patrick's birthday," says Jim, bouncing his boy a little.

"They can be birthday buddies!" says Michael happily, and then gasps. "Jim, what if they fall in love? We could be brothers!"

"I don't think that's how it works, but wow," says Jim.  

"Young man, stay away from my daughter for the next twenty years," says Michael, waggling his finger at Patrick. "No hanky-panky! Though I bet he's a big fan of boobs, am I right?"

Jim shakes his head, saying "Inappropriate!" into Pat's little ear, and he catches Pam's eye. Jan looks sleepy and Pam nods slightly. They stand in unison and Pam says, "We're going to get going, but thanks so much for having us over."

Michael stands up, too, and they watch he tenderly takes the baby from the now dozing Jan, planting a kiss on Jan's forehead in the process. It's such a grown-up gesture from him that it makes Jim's heart swell just a little bit.

Michael walks them to the door and they pause for a moment to look down at the tiny bundle in his arms. "I have a daughter, can you believe it?" he says quietly, and Jim is truly happy for him. "She's perfect," says Pam as they step out onto the front steps.

They say goodbye and head down the driveway, Jim hugging his own baby a little tighter than normal. Michael waves to them from the doorway and calls, "See you next time at your house!" before he closes the door.  

Pam is buckling Patrick in and Jim leans into the car. "Pam, what does he mean by 'see you next time at your house'?"

Pam doesn't look at him until she's slid into the seat next to him, and then she gives him a sheepish grin. "I agreed to host the Dunder-Mifflin Monthly Playgroup next month. Dwight and Angela will bring Chrissy and Michael and Jan'll bring Peyton."

"Okay. You owe me big for that one," Jim says as they drive off, but he smiles in spite of himself and takes her hand, and they both know he's not upset at all.