-
He's an unhappy child, I'll tell you that.
-
Oh, it's you-- the birth mother.
-
Perhaps it was your poor nutrition
-
or just your genetic inferiority.
-
In any case, I'm quite dissatisfied. He's a weakling.
-
Well, his lungs are strong; I could hear him upstairs.
-
May I?
-
No, hands off!
-
You people-- you think you can just show up
-
and claim some sort of birthright, but arrangements were made.
-
This baby is mine.
-
I understand.