But She Would Love a Baby Brother

Julia skipped up to me one day after school carrying a blue lollipop. As she unwrapped the sugary treat meant to celebrate a classmate's new baby she sighed, "I would love a baby brother."

I'm sure she would. Julia loves everything. Up until a month ago she's loved every person she's ever met. She's even starting to reverse her opinion on the only little girl she's ever said was not her friend.

Somehow I've been blessed with a genuinely happy child.

She also thinks that a real live baby doll would be cool. We'd feed it and dress it. Then when her and I wanted to play Barbies we could leave it lying on its face in the middle of the living room.

Wait. We couldn't do that.

I explained these drawbacks as she sucked on that lollipop. Mommy wouldn't be able to hold you. Mommy wouldn't be able to spoon feed you pink Cheerios before school while you're still mostly asleep. Your life would never be the same again.

Then I hit her with the big guns. I told her, "if God wanted Mommy and Daddy to have two kids, He'd have made it so Mommy and Daddy could have two kids."

The conversation ended. I rejoiced that there is still something that can silence her questions, but it's probably only temporary. We'll have it all out again the next time those lollipops are around.

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