Several days ago we broke the news to Adam that he was going to be a big brother.
“Baby? MY baby? Where’s it at?” I pointed to the general vicinity of my abdomen and he seemed intrigued. “Do you want a brother or a sister?” I inquired. To which he screamed SISTER at the top of his lungs. Shortly after he rescinded his reply and requested….twins. Let’s pass on that. His heart seems to be set on a little sister. So much so he wants to name her ‘iCarly.’
He adores rubbing my belly and asking when it will get ‘way big.’ Quite frankly, I’m surprised he knows so much about things of this nature but he’s always been astute. I supplied him with a Cabbage Patch from my childhood whom he loves to lug around to meals, playtime, and bed. I’ll forgive him for carelessly discarding ‘baby’ on the floor this afternoon when he was frustrated because he promised he would change all of the diapers, feed him/her, and give cuddles. And there you have it!
His questions are hysterical:
“Why can’t I hear baby? She sleeps [he’s convinced it’s a sister] too much. Why always sleeping? Does she have a passy?”
“Will she get really big or are you already big?” [Sidnote: you did this to me, Adam!] And yes, I will only get bigger.
“Does she want me to change her stinky britches? Because I can.” We’ll see how that works after you deposit your stinky britches in the potty, mister!
“I’ll feed her bottles and give her food.” Oh, please do!
“She can’t go to school with me yet.”
“Mommy, if I was in your belly how did she get there too?” Uhh…..
“What if I squish her?”
With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,