Crazy for Babies Are We?

I made the mistake of being in front of Oscar while checking my brother and sister-in-law’s new The Baby is Coming photos on-line. Whereas babies here are made room for, rooms are rarely made for them.
Ok, so they're chuchi and their baby will be chuchi. “Dios mio,” said Oscar, looking at the pink room, the lovely furniture. “We could live for two years on the money for this.” His tone was not bitter, just amazed.
“And what is that?” It’s a lay-z-boy and the baby’s own little bathroom. “Never in my life... You all are crazy.”
“And what is that?” It’s a crib. “The baby’s not going to sleep with them when it’s young?” No. He’s shocked.
“But what if the baby cries and you don’t hear it?”
I thought of my answer and didn’t want to say it.
“There’s kind of a... walkie talkie ...for the baby.”
A walkie talkie!? For the baby!? Dios mio.” He rounded his hand around his mouth. “Ckherrrrk. This is the baby. Wake up. I’m crying. Copy.”
He dropped his hand and looked at me like I was crazy. “You all are crazy. Dios fucking mio.”
He put his hand back up to his mouth. “ Ckherrrrk. Does anybody hear me? I pooped. Copy.”