In about 25 years. (Aren’t you glad I finished that sentence?) Let me explain…
Last Sunday afternoon, as I was making dinner in the kitchen
Michael came in from the living room where he had just been playing with
Isabelle. He said, “Mom, when are you going to have a baby in your tummy?”
Caught a bit off guard I said, “Well honey I’m
not going to.
Why?” Michael said, “Mom, I want you to have a baby”
“That’s nice Michael, but Dad and I have you,
Gabriel and Isabelle and we are so thankful for you, we are only going to have
you three, okay?”
Still insisting that I
needed to have a baby in my stomach he continued, “But Mom, I want you
to have a baby.”
Again, I said, “That’s
nice of you Michael but…” before I could
continue he said, “Actually mom I want you to have 26 babies.”
Laughing out loud and completely stopping
what I was working on, I looked at him and blurted out, “Why in the world do
you think we need to have 26 more babies?”
“Cause Mom,” as if I was asking an absolutely absurd question, “Because I
LIKE babies, don’t you?”
“Of course I do
Michael.
How about this?...” as I started
blurting out the instant plan I thought of in my head, “How about when you grow
up, get married, a have a great job, YOU can have 26 babies?”
Looking down at him, I saw him smiling from
ear to ear and he had the look that he was developing his own plan in his mind. “Okay mom, that’s fine.”
Thinking I had easily avoided that possibly difficult conversation I turned back to what I was working on. But before I could start again Michael said, “Mom, that’s
okay as long as you’re the babysitter.”
Until next time,
Angie
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