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.