(I guess if I'm going to post, I need to settle for shorter posts.)
Some time ago, Mary Jane informed us: "If the new baby is a brother, we will throw him in the trash can, and Daddy will have to take care of him."
Now I have been through this sort of thing before. Oscar used to say when I was expecting Milo: "We will put the new baby in the pot, and stir, and burn the baby!" So I am not, shall we say, worried about it.
But after we learned that the new baby is indeed male, or at least looks that way on the ultrasound, I did do a little bit of coaxing about baby boys, and yet MJ remained unmoved. Nope. Baby boy = in the trash, Daddy = primary caregiver.
However, a week ago MJ and I flew out West to visit friend and commenter Christy P, who happens to have a daughter "Z" the same age as MJ -- and a new baby son, whom I assume I can call, James-Bond like, "Q." (The last time I went out to visit her, we were both pregnant with the girls.)
It was an interesting weekend. We learned, for example, that not only can you fit 3 kids in the back of a Prius (that's one rear-facing carseat, one front-facing carseat, and one booster), you can in fact fit --- in the back of that same Prius---3 kids PLUS one nearly-6-months-pregnant 35-year-old, crouching in the backseat behind the passenger seat clutching her screaming daughter's legs to keep her from kicking the baby, and calmly (under the circumstances) requesting that the driver drive, um, carefully.
(An impressive amount of legroom, the Prius has. I'm just saying.)
Also that the best thing to do with two three-year-olds sentenced to spend lots of time together over the course of three days is to take them outside. Park, zoo, whatever: It's all good. Mr. Rogers also made a welcome appearance.
But since I have gotten back I have also discovered something else very pleasant. I think MJ was very taken with little Q, who is 3 months old and placid and wide-eyed and chubby, and also with Z's big-sisterly attitude toward Q. She has been describing our trip as "I went on an airplane to visit Z and Q." And since we have been back, she has been telling people rather proudly, "My baby is going to be a brother too."
She has for a long time referred to Oscar and Milo as "her boys:" -- "I'm going to go up to bed with my boys now and read stories." "I'm going downstairs to watch a movie with my boys." Maybe #4 will become one of her boys now, or maybe -- being younger -- he will occupy a wholly new spot in the family ecosystem. Either way, I think she has come to some kind of acceptance. Nice to see.
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