Fetus: The city is frightening! Everything outside is scary, Mama. I don’t want to be born!
Mother: How can you say that? Of course you have to be born.
Fetus: No, Mama! Do you remember the winter mornings in Xitao, when Grandma and Grandpa used to yell at you?
Mother: Of course I remember. My parents used to wake me before the sun was even up so that I could go with them to clean out the sheep pen. I didn’t want to get up at all. It was still dark outside, and the wind sliced across skin like knives. Sometimes it even snowed. I was so warm in my bed, wrapped up in my blanket like an egg in the nest. I always wanted to sleep a little longer.
Fetus: Not just a little longer. You wanted to sleep in the warm blanket forever.