One night this week, I was leaning back in my chair after dinner, enjoying an in-depth conversation with my son about the new rules of playground basketball and, of course, Pokemon.
Side note – is it just me, or do you feel like being forced to listen to the Barney theme song all day, every day, is a fair trade for the destruction of the Pokemon dynasty? We’re going to have to build out the east wing of this tiny house to store all these cards.
Back to the story – I was completely comfortable in my own skin, with a full belly of homemade deliciousness, the most precious boy on earth chatting with me and a good glass of wine to take the edge off a hard day (little did I know I would be skipping through the (next) day).
We were wrapping up the conversation when he looks at me with a giggle and says “You look like you have a baby in your belly.”
I looked down in shock – “What?! Do not!”
“You do, but it’s ok, it’s just because you ate a lot of dinner… But can we have a baby?”
I have not had “the talk” with my son yet so he doesn’t realize just how impossible that idea is. “I would love to darlin’, but no, we can’t have any babies.”
“Oh, I don’t want babies mom. That’s too many. Just one. And it needs to be a boy, I’ve got a sister… we don’t need to go there again.”
And with that, he got up from the dining room table like his words had set the plan in motion.
Let’s just pray he doesn’t mention this in his letter to Santa later this year.