Suburgatory

They say breakfast is the most important meal

of the day...

But ever since Noah's surrogate,

A.K.A., my dad's pregnant girlfriend,

moved in...

It was also the most awkward.

Pregnancy cravings?

No, I eat this every day.

It's a good source of energy because it's live.

What's live?

My chia seed porridge, silly.

You got a little...

Chia there.

You know what never gets stuck in your teeth?

White icing.

- Good morning. - Morning!

- Hi. - Is it school picture day?

What?

Very funny.

I don't get it.

George usually comes to breakfast

in old sweatpants and a... nasal strip.

Thank you, Tessa.

I warmed up your icing for you.

Thank you. I am starving.

"No! Don't do it, George.

"I'm so much healthier and yummier.

Try me. I'm on the stove!"

Don't look at me.

It's the chia seed talking.

Did I miss something?

Eden's food is alive.

Her comic timing...

O-okay. You cooked... You cooked this,

Okay. That's nice.

That's, uh, very rich and earthy, uh...

George! I went to all this trouble.

Well, okay, wait a minute.

Best of both worlds.

"Help!"

"I'm drowning in a pool of fructose!"

"I can't feel my own goodness!"

How long are you in town for?

So...

How long is she in town for?

- It's a fair question. - Great. What's the answer?

I want to mark it down on my calendar

with a big smiley face.

Okay. Well, late June she should deliver,

so early July she should be...

Could be leaving.

It might be the middle of August.

I'm not exactly sure, but whether it's

many, many weeks more or only three weeks more

or... or six months from when she moved in

or a year from when she first conceived

or three months from the middle of June...

So you haven't discussed it yet.

No, we haven't talked about that.

Have you discussed how long she spends

in the bathroom every morning

when I need to get ready for school?

Look, I know it's annoying having someone else

in your space telling you what to eat and how to live

and... to not use the Internet.

What?

She doesn't want us to use the Internet.

- Because? - Because she read a report

saying the wireless signal causes fetal sterility.

She's worried about the baby, having babies?

It would seem so, yeah.

But, hey, look, I know it's a lot to put up with,

but it's not forever.

Right.

Just... three months or...

Many, many weeks

from the midsummer date you refuse to commit to.

Right.

All right. Another great scheduled visitation

with my unborn baby!

See you next visit.

Bells on!

And, Noah, you don't have to have your office call to confirm. I'll be here.

Good stuff! That's good stuff!

You are screwed.

Beg pardon?

She's got that baby wrapped around her uterus.

She's got the uterus wrapped around the baby.

That's how it's supposed to be.

You're missing the point, dum-dum.

She's in that baby's head all day, every day.

She's got his ear,

and the male voice he hears the most

belongs to George.

George.

He swears that he only let Eden move in

to keep her from going back to Montana,

but... a small part of me wonders

if it wasn't self-motivated.

A big part. Almost all of me.

There is not one part of me that does not feel that!

Then you need to keep your baby close

and the people who carry your baby closer.

If I were you, I would double the length

of those scheduled visits.

Let that baby know who his daddy is.

He'll know who his daddy is.

Will he?

Yeah. He'll know.

- Who's his daddy? - I am.

- Who's his daddy? - I'm his daddy!

- Who's his daddy? - I'm his daddy!

- Who's his daddy?! - I'm his daddy!

- Who's his daddy?! - Who's your daddy?!

You've never met! He lives in Oregon!

Dalia, I've been looking for my keys for 20 minutes,

and once again, they were in the pouch

of penuche, your kangaroo.

He likes shiny things.

I'm well aware. Your kangaroo is a klepto,

and yesterday, he kicked Carmen in the gut.

She provoked him.

Dalia, face it.

Kangaroos weren't meant to live

in spacious mediterranean revivals.

So we'll move.

We are not movin'!

Kangaroo Jack is the one who's movin'...

To the guesthouse.

But penuche isn't a guest. He's family.

Can't we just lock up the silver

like we do when the service people are here

and make Carmen wear a medieval suit of armor?

Well, it would be funny

to make Carmen wear a medieval suit of armor...

But no! No, we can't.

Lord.

I suspect that's the China cabinet.

He learned how to open doors!

This is it, Dalia! This is how the monkeys rose!

It's nice to have someone cooking for us, right?

Are you kidding, George? It smells like...

Sugar-coated yum-yum.

Sweet sugar yum-yum. Our tummies are growling.

Nice save, George.

Introducing wheat meat.

I was worried the extra corn would make

the loaf too loose, but it didn't.

Yep. She's a firm one.

Come on, Tessa. Let's dig in.

The wheat meat loaf won't eat itself.

I don't blame it.

So how was school today?

They made texting a language,

so I can officially drop Spanish.

Okay, Tessa, now listen to me. I hated French...

I mean, hated it... But I stuck with it,

and now, if we were in Paris and I had a sore throat,

I could tell someone.

So?

Tessa, your dad is right.

As Oliver Wendell Holmes said,

"language is the blood of the soul

into which thoughts run..." "Which... run..."

"And out of which..." "Out of which..."

They grow." "They grow," so...

That...

Doesn't resonate with me.

All right. Let's take a vote. Whoever thinks Tessa should

continue to feed her soul with, uh, the language blood,

raise your hand.

Is she even registered to vote here?

She is now.

The food sucks, there's no wi-fi,

and the two of them are ganging up on me.

I have to get out of this house, Lisa.

I'm counting down the days until macrame camp.

I can't stand being under the same roof

with the woman formerly known as "mother."

Still harping on the adoption stuff,

Yeah, and as soon as I get my D.N.A. results back,

I can prove once and for all that I am not a Shay.

Well, I have to figure out an exit strategy of my own,

or you're gonna have to box-weave me

a noose this summer.

They don't let us do that any more,

but what if you came to macrame camp with me?

I mean, I, for one, can't wait

to weave my troubles behind me.

Just picture it, Tess.

Cool wind in your hair...

The feeling of bristly yarn against your fingertips,

the sound of the interstate muted

by a thin line of balding trees.

I don't know if macrame camp is for me.

I'm more of a city girl.

Camp in New York? The cost of thread alone...

What about an internship, like, at a newspaper?

I have experience on "the Chatswin chatterer."

I could live in Manhattan.