Caught completely off guard by her last remark, Greg dropped the remote. "We're... *guuuh*. Excuse me, we're... *stegrh*. *Harumph* We're what now?" He asked her, trying to sound the opposite of what he was feeling right now in terms of surprise and mildly growing panic. Slowly, tiny butterflies were rising up through his stomach. She didn't respond, however, because she was to busy staring at something just behind him.
Turning around, he saw an 8 year old boy standing in the opening. He vaguely recognized the face from old pictures. "Dad!?" He quickly picked up the remote, which had completely by accident transformed his own father into an 8 year old boy.
The boy just scraped his throat. "What's going on in here? What's wrong with my voice? You've got some 'splainin' to do young man."
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