There’s a King Cake in the breakroom because one of the pretty girls who works here is from New Orleans. She sent a message warning people about the plastic baby inside the food, and suddenly I remembered the song we used to sing in high school theatre about King Cake:

She’s got the baaaaby.
She’s got the baaaaby.
She’s got the baaaaby.
She’s got the baaaaby.
She’s got the–
Pam’s got the baby,
The little, little baby.

And then it kind of abruptly ended, which left a kind of uneasy feeling to the room that made you want to immediately start the song again. Which we would then do.

It was sung with much ridiculous dancing, and was best performed when we were supposed to be completely serious, like rehearsing a play about child abuse, instead of singing songs about King Cake babies.

Can’t remember how to do differential equations, but this song lives on in my brain.