We have a playpen in our living room. Somebody at church gave it to us and I'm leaving it out partly because I mean to take it out and wash it down the next dry day and partly because I'm trying to adjust to the mental shock. It seems like it should belong to a visitor who will take it away. Or that it should be in someone else's house. The thought of us with a real, live, squirmy baby is still beyond comprehension.