And so two women came unto King Solomon with a baby, see. And the first said, last night in her sleep this other woman smothered her baby and then took mine to replace it, and when I woke up I was holding a dead child that was not my own. And the other, you know, the other said that's not true. This is my baby. The baby you are holding is mine.
And the king said unto them, fetch me a big sword, that I may cut this baby into two pieces, and that you may each have half. And the one woman spoke and said, okay that sounds good, and the other spoke and said, no, just give her the baby, she can keep it, just please don't cut the baby in half.
And so the king knew this second woman was truly the mother and of course he did not have to chop a baby in half.
But can I bring up something really quick, which is what is this first lady's deal? What would you have to be feeling to sneak into another woman's house and steal her baby because yours died? When does your sadness turn to that, like, sick determination? You're just crying in the night and you think, I need a baby, any baby. And then at the end of the story, when she realizes she's never going to get this baby, you know. What kind of horrible spite would you have to feel to want someone else's baby cut in half? What does this woman want with half a baby?