He holds open the cab door for her, and they say goodbye. She drives off, and Jack watches the cab sadly. I kinda hope he feels ashamed of himself.
Kate arrives at her beautiful sun-dappled California home. Her housekeeper or nanny or both or whatever greets Kate with a hug. "He missed you so much," she says. "Did you keep him away from the TV?" And I'd just like to say that keeping your child away from the television is a good thing, but if you do it too much, and then she wakes up really early on a Sunday morning and you figure, "Maybe she'll be content if she gets a sippy cup of milk and I put The Aristocats DVD we just bought on the bedroom television, she'll just quietly cuddle" and then she is as usual completely uninterested in watching television and just wants to play? Well, you might find yourself rethinking the zero-television-tolerance rule just slightly. (But then you wake up and you play with her and she says your name and giggles, so that's okay too.)
ANYWAY, Kate heads upstairs to the nursery, where a towheaded little youngster is stirring in his transition bed. "Hey, Mommy," he says, as he wakes up and she gathers him in for a hug. "Hey, Aaron," she says. Awww. She named her son after Turniphead!
Oh, wait, that's not it.