There, in the middle of the floor, was a mesh-walled playpen with a new blue receiving blanket laying in the corner of the pen. Thomas wondered where she had gotten the playpen, the design was too recent for it to have been one from his childhood, but the small tears in the padding told him that it had seen some use. She sat him down in the middle of the plastic padded playpen amid a profusion of baby toys, then bent over the playpen to talk to him. His Mother soothed the hair on the top of his head affectionately and said, “Can Tommy say something for Momma? Come on Tommy, try and say something for Momma. Say, ‘Momma’ Tommy. Come on Tommy, say ‘Ma-ma’.”
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