I hold a tiny boy baby and ask how old he is. He says 11 months. I am amazed because he is so small, like a toy doll, skinny. There are three of them. I like them. I think they are "cousins" or babies of cousins. My mother and Aunt Millie are in a bed and talking and I try to overhear. My mother says, "So that's how you tell? You smell them?" Millie talks. I think, "Aha, someone is having an affair, maybe my father." I want to listen in and get all the info. I am interrupted by people talking, and new arrivals to the reunion party we are at. I suck on a cannelloni noodle until the meat filling is all gone. Somehow, that was one of the babies.