I love you guys.

Oh, I love you so dearly.

It's a picture of me as a baby with a couple of pilgrims.

No, of course not.

Oh no, more of them.

I'm 99.9% sure of that.

Hey, you know, since this is kind of, well, kind of a backwards sort of family reunion of sorts, um, what do you say we get one of those where are they now pictures, huh?

You know, uh, I had a heck of a time finding you guys.

A healthy white Amish baby sold to a couple of two-bit carpetbaggers.

We even took a picture of you with them.

You have any of your own?

Thanks for 30 years of shelter, clothing, and three square meals a day of... lies!

We've also got a picture of him with Santa Claus.

Oh, my God, of course it's you.

That is the custom of our people.

Not for the first couple of weeks.

We shun the ways of the outside world.

Yes, that's not one of our horrible secrets.

All the pieces of the puzzle are there.

They've grown fond of this charade called Chris Peterson.