The Evolution of a Big Brother

I mentioned before that the real reason I agreed to have another go at this whole child-bearing thing was for The Boy.  I am not a fan of doctors, hospitals, needles or pushing large objects through body parts that (despite the claims stating otherwise) are not designed for such.  Vomiting is not fun, giving up coffee is not fun.  Shopping can be fun, but not necessarily when you are shopping for clothing that resembles a circus tent in sizes that increase rapidly.  

Yet, for my darling little boy I was willing to go through all of that.

As I looked at his sweet little face I couldn't help but think, "he needs a brother or sister." I felt his life would be better if he had a live-in playmate, a buddy, someone to share childhood with and a pal to complain about the many quirks of Hubby and I to in the future.  So in an attempt to fulfill the American Dream of the white picket fence (installed last summer) and the 2 children quota we proceeded on with "Operation Sibling." 

I have been told that one should never assume anything and perhaps assuming that the Boy wouldn't be happy as an only child was my mistake.  It may have been a good idea to ask his opinion because at the age of 3.5 he has many opinions.  It appears he even has an opinion on this specific topic.

We have not yet told him about the fact that his world will soon be rocked by not one, but two intruders that require our attention.  We have eluded to it.  Preliminary debriefings have not gone too well.

We've casually mentioned bits and pieces to lay some groundwork and feel him out.

I tried the "everyone's doing it" peer pressure approach:

I said, "Lots of people have babies.  It would be fun to have a baby."

He replied, "If a baby tried to come near my house I would poke it with a stick until it went back to it's own house."

I tried the "making a connection approach:"

I said, "Babies are cute.  Who do you know at school that has a baby that lives at their house."

He responded, "Not me and I like that!"

Ultimately, I went with a more direct questioning method and asked, "Do you think you would ever want a baby to live at our house."

To this he shrugged and said, "sure...but I would rather have a real puppy."

It's progress.  

One of these days we'll sit him down and tell it like it is.  For now, he seems to be quite content with his center of attention status and doesn't ask questions.  He's aware of some changes around here.  He suggested we play a game where he throws a ball and we both walk fast to get it because "mommy doesn't run."  He also asks in a matter of fact manner if I remembered to throw up before leaving to work the same way one would ask if I remembered my keys, lunch and cell phone.  Still, he doesn't ask.  Perhaps he knows and isn't telling us he knows.  He's sly like that.