I sing to you
I sing to you
And the baby Petunia too
I sing to you
About your sweetness
And your beet-red face
And your little no-teethness
And your little hands
She's cranky.
Without no gloves
I sing to you of all our love
Behave, peanut.
Oh, God.
I love our life.
I love how it just goes along, you know.
Pork chops again and,
"Do we owe the Richardsons?" and...
- Where are my socks?
- And, "Where are my socks?", right.
- Where are my socks?
- They're in your sock drawer.
Got four socks in my sock drawer,
and none of them match.
Oh, oh, I'm sorry.
- Hello, hello, baby.
- Here's your funny daddy.
Oh, boy.
Oh, boy. Oh, boy.
Well...
- See?
- Well, I mean, that... Yeah.
Whoops.
I must've took two of those.
I just...
I never expected to love it so much.
You know?
Nobody tells you.
Nobody prepares you for what happens.
I mean, you get born, too.
A whole part of you
that you didn't know you had.
I mean, suddenly you have
all this love to give and...
It's almost as if you expand.
- You should be writing about this.
- Oh, God, Richard.
You don't have to write about everything.
You'll wind up doing yourself a favour.
Just keep a tape recorder around
- and talk into it every so often.
- Oh, sure.
Right. This is Rachel Samstat,
food writer,
and I'm here mixing Gerber's
Rice Cereal and Applesauce.
Do it soon because
after this one's born
you won't have time
to write a postcard.
"Presently, Kep opened
the door of the shed
"and let out Jemima Puddle-Duck.
"Unfortunately, the puppies rushed in
and gobbled up all the eggs
"before he could stop them.
"Jemima Puddle-Duck
was escorted home in tears
"on account of those eggs."
- Good morning.
- Morning.
- Good morning, Juanita.
- What a day.
"She laid some more in June
"and she was permitted to keep them
herself, but only four of them hatched.
"Jemima Puddle-Duck said that
it was because of her nerves.
"But she had always been a bad sitter."
What a story.
I've...
I've got a lunch up on the Hill
and then I'm gonna go shopping.
- What for?
- Socks.
Hello, this is Rachel Samstat.
Well, obviously it's me.
I mean, who else could it be?
It's my tape recorder.
And it's May 16th, and I'm here
in the kitchen with Annie.
Why don't you say something
to the folks back home, Annie.
What?
A word? Oh, my God. I got it on tape!
Oh, you big...
Julie's idea of romance, OK?
I'll tell you. You ready?
She's got this flannel nightgown
that she puts on.
It's got this stuff across the top.
What is it?
- Ricrac.
- Ricrac, exactly. Right.
- And these bedroom slippers...
- With bunnies on them.
Right. So she puts on the nightgown
and the slippers,
and she gets into bed on Monday night
with the magazines
- and a bowl of lima beans, right?
- Yes, yes.
Hi, darling. Bye.
And now, Arthur's idea of romance
is Venice, gondolas...
- Gondolas.
- Oh, oh, yes, of course.
I love my flannel nightgown.
Oh, I'm so happy.
Who knew West Virginia
was so beautiful?
I think we should take
this place every summer.
- Definitely.
- Mark goes into town,
goes to the dentist. He conducts
his search for the perfect pair of socks.
He comes home and says,
"What've you been doing?"
And I say, "Oh, not much, you know.
Today we found a frog."
Here's a riddle for you.
There's 200 million people in America.
A hundred million of them are men.
They lose four socks a year,
conservatively.
I lose ten myself.
That's 400 million missing socks.
Missing forever. Where are they?
Nobody ever sees them again.
You'd think you'd run into one
of them every once in a while.
They're in heaven.
You die, go to heaven,
and they give you this big box
with all your missing socks
and mufflers in it.
And you get to spend eternity
sorting it out.
And why is there only one shoe left
in the road? Where is the other shoe?
Why is the cold water
in the bathroom always colder
than the cold water in the kitchen?
- Mark, for God's sake.