"Huh? I don't like the dark..." says your infant mind in baby talk, though for the sake of clarity it has been translated to English. "I don't like the dark, but I spend much too much time in it. But in my experience, making a high-pitched screeching noise with my vocal cords and diaphragm means light. It hurts like hell, but... hey, better than this dark prison." You begin to cry loudly enough to shatter the eardrums of the parental unit standing over you, but not loudly enough to frighten the ugly maniacs from the next world. They brought an awful lot of pink-themed clothing over, only to discover that you were a boy. Why they seem to like this world so much better than their own is a mystery to you, but then again, they don't have to lie down in a dark room while your parental units frantically try to shut them up.
"Wheghubb hummi! Alesanerz gryig!" spoke the (male) parental unit to the female in the next dimension. You hear po-po-po-po-po... a sound connected with the travel through dimensions often done by parental units and the pan-universal beings with the pink booties/sweaters/hats/shorts. It gets louder, and soon there is light once more. What now?
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