One of my favorite thing about people is that they make other people. With the people they love, they make people, who then find people THEY love, and make more people. Soon the house needs to be bigger and there’s drawers of diapers again, and small cups with lids. You need a longer table, more chairs. The noses of the older people become smaller noses on faces smeared with birthday cake. The house, full of people, is rarely quiet, but when it is, the older people sit and remember when it was just Them. Downstairs, the new people sleep.