So, for the past few days, I have been having a raging argument about whether or not I’ll have another baby. Not with my husband, but with one of my kids. She won’t give it up, starting in the morning with, “can I tell you a secret? I really want a little sister,” going through to after school when she involves other people, “Mrs. R, shouldn’t I have a little sister?” and continuing all the way into nightfall when the tiredness overcomes her and she flops on the ground kicking and yelling, “I want a little sister! I want a little sister!“
Oh, the injustice. The unfairness of it all. I mean, clearly, from her actions above, she’s ready to take on the role of mature older sister. She’s not still a baby herself or anything.
I explain to her how much work it will be.
“I’ll feed her!” she says. Then thinks. “But you have to change the diapers,” she concedes.
I tell her it takes nine months, and that’s after I get pregnant so it could take years.
This is devastating.
Can’t I understand that she wants a baby sister, now? How about tomorrow? What if she’s really, really good and doesn’t cry for the rest of the day? Then can she have a baby sister tomorrow?
I am so cruel.
I tell her I don’t want any more babies.
Unacceptable. Moms should have all the babies all the time. They shouldn’t have a choice. She’d make a right little Republican, wouldn’t she? (Oh, cheap zing, there. Let’s move along.)
Finally, she goes to my husband for help.
First of all: Hahaha. Haha. Hahahahahahaha. HAHA. Yeah, right, kid. You’d have better luck getting a puppy from him. The chances of a puppy are at least .0000001.
He tells her no.
She tantrums because she’s so ready and mature and can’t we just see that? It’s very convincing.
Finally, after she calms down, waits a while, and asks again, my husband smiles at me.
“Yes,” he says.
And it stops.
And I’m thinking, why didn’t I think of that?
But, fear not, it was only a slight reprieve. The next day, she was at it again, looking for her little sister. We went through all the same arguments.
Finally, finally, I decided to stop assuming I knew why she wanted another baby (cuddly, cute, something to help grow, etc.) and asked her.
“N has a big sister,” she said.
“Well, yes, but N isn’t a big sister,” I replied. “There are all kinds of sisters.”
“Yeah!” she said. “N isn’t a big sister and she has to sit in the back seat like me. But her big sister gets to sit in the front seat. I want to sit in the front seat, mama. So, mama? Can I have a little sister?”
Because in Natalina’s world, if big sisters sit in the front seat, then she needs to be a big sister, stat.
Clearly that is the easiest route to the front seat of the car.
Preschooler logic at its best.
Two is enough.