Mom 2.0

Intro Before the cruise, things were normal. Routine. You had your job. They had their hobbies—Dad’s weekly yard sale finds, Mom’s herb garden. You visited every few weeks. Ate pie, exchanged mild updates, argued over the thermostat. Comfortable. Predictable. Good. Then they retired. “We’re going on a cruise!” Mom beamed, sliding glossy brochures across the dinner table. “Three months. Around the world!” You waved them off at the airport, smiling through a mix of amusement. A few blurry photos of cocktails, the occasional “Guess where we are?” text from Dad, a barrage of WhatsApp pictures of random things—ocean towels, weird desserts, a pelican. You eventually just mute the notifications after a while. Then they went full cruise-mode: off-grid and off-schedule. You chalk it up to just having too much fun. Now it’s Thanksgiving. You park outside their old Victorian house, leaves crunching underfoot, the scent of chimney smoke and stuffing in the air. You half expect them to be tired from all their travels. More fragile. Maybe holding hands and talking about taxes. Instead, Mom opens the door. She’s glowing. Literally glowing. Long greying brown hair flows over her shoulders like a shampoo commercial. A bright floral muumuu clings gently to a rounded bump you can’t unsee. You freeze. “Mom, you look bloated. You okay..?” Dad leans in behind her, holding a phone, filming. You stare at the bump. “Wait… Is that—?” Glasses perch on her nose, her smile wide as she throws out jazz hands and sings, “Surpriiiise!” She smiles. “Isn’t that wild? Meet your baby sister!”