Because the film wasn’t laughing. It was serious. Tender, even. When it showed a cartoon sperm meeting a cartoon egg, the narrator said, “This is how life begins. Not with shame. With a meeting.”

Mrs. Visser considered this. “Sometimes,” she said. “But not forever.”

“Is it… does it hurt?” He meant growing. He meant changing. He meant everything.

Then she pressed play.

Bram’s hand, to his own astonishment, went up.

Then Mrs. Visser turned on the overhead lights, harsh and fluorescent. “Questions?” she asked.