Karma Really Bites

Brotherly love

My beloved did NOT greet me at the door with the secret word of the day yesterday. So I had to do it. I snuggled up to him as he was watching football and said “I think Squish would really like to have a baby brother, don’t you?” “Um, no,” was his reply. He didn’t actually shove me off the couch, but he was definitely no longer in snuggle mode. My evil plan was in motion.

As he watched a game I am not even sure he cared about, I began to share how very much Squish enjoyed having our friend’s baby over to play. And I wasn’t lying. Squish had a blast. When I asked the baby if he was ready to get down from the highchair, Squish added “And pway wif me?”  with sincerity and hope. It was really sweet. Here’s where karma comes in. As I talked about how incredibly adorable the boys were together, I started falling for my own shtick. And it’s no longer funny.

I started imagining Squish playing with a little brother the way he played with our visitor. Baby takes train, Squish says “Gimme dat!” Baby gives train. I pictured Squish feeding his own little sibling, shoving cheerios (not play-doh! I swear, Cyndi! It wasn’t play-doh!) in its mouth with glee. Wouldn’t that be awesome? And it’s totally feasible.

A new baby wouldn’t be here before Squish was ready to leave his crib. We move him to the lower bunk in the 9 year old’s room, the new one takes its place in our room. By the time it’s big enough to leave the crib, oldest child will be out of the house and in college. We can move the 9 year old into his sister’s old room and let Squish and his little buddy stick with the bunk beds. This is so very doable!

And for my husband, am I kidding? Today’s secret word is “chuckle.” You tell me.


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