"Do you have the baby?"
"Yes, he's asleep."
"Are you sure? You know if la migra hears us- it's more serious this time."
"I know. I gave him some Benadryl some minutes ago."
"Good girl. He's wearing his diaper, right?"
"Yes! Quit worrying- he's wearing it, okay?"
"I'm not worried, I just don't want you fucking things up like you did last time."
"I fucked things up? You're the one who-"
"¡Cállate! Ahí vienen. Here they come."
A Suburban crunched quietly on the desert floor until it stopped. The passenger door opened and a man stepped out. Eye contact. A contemptuous smirk. He spoke.
"Miren qué bonita familia- What a nice family. Let me guess: José, María y el niño Jesús," he said.
"Our Lord and Savior," came the practiced reply.
"Well, well, well. Good answer. We're Christians in these parts too, you know? We're dedicated to spreading the Gospel far and wide, ¿entiendes? So I believe you have something for us in that regard."
José looked at María, then he nodded at her and she began to remove the baby's diaper.
"Perfect. But we'll handle that part," the man said.
María frowned at the man. He smiled back at her. José motioned with his head insistently, and she handed over the sleeping baby to the man.
"Gracias," said the man, and he returned to the Suburban with the baby in his arms. The passenger door closed.
A few minutes later, the passenger door opened and the man stepped out, still holding the baby.
"Nos trajiste buen producto. You brought us good product- some good shit, eh?" he said handing the baby back to María. The baby was unharmed, but he wasn't wearing his diaper anymore.
"At least you wrapped the product well this time," the man said. "Last time the two of you were here, el pinche niño pissed all over the brick we were supposed to sample. You were lucky we're good Christians and gave you a second chance to redeem yourselves"
