lil miss doesn’t like to go to sleep. tonight, she insisted on not having the night light turned on.
then, an hour later, she insisted it needed to be turned on after all. this insistence? “daaa-aaaad? mo-mmmmyyy? come here!”
i went in to get her as the dude was busy with the bean. i picked her up from the crib (“you change my peepee diaper.” full out potty training… what a lofty goal!) and she started babbling as i lay her down.
my boogers are sleeping. they are sleeping right now. my boogers are sleeping in my nose. in my nose house. they are sleeping in my nose house. and when they wake up, the nanny is going to go to their nose house.
and before i forget, i have to jot these down too.
when i was heavily pregnant with bean, lil miss would ask me about him.
bean in mommy’s belly? yes. you go to ho-pital to get him out? that’s right. i need my big girl scissors. really? what do you need them for? i cut him out. (raised eyebrows) chk. chk. chk. (all the while making cutting motions with her tiny fingers.)
later, when i actually did give birth to the bean (you push him out, mama?), she came to visit. only a few hours into older sisterhood, she was beyond ecstatic to have a baby to kiss and cuddle and lavish all sorts of toddler-zilla love on.
i observed this with a contented sense of maternal pride, this display of sibling affection. and then lil miss looked at me with a look of rapturous joy.
mommy! yes? (pointing excitedly at my belly) i have two brothers?!?!
um, no. (oh the glories of a post partum belly.)
and then a couple of days later, as we were preparing to leave the hospital, we hear a very important question. mommy, you push him back him? that, my darling, is a resounding no.