So, all the time, the child is asking me whether we can have ten kids. Sometimes he asks me if we can have 3211 kids, a show off number. To which I reply, "NO, no no." Obviously.
But I was happy to be able to tell him that we really are going to have another baby. To say that he is excited would be like saying that he likes mangoes. He adores mangoes, and he is coming out of his skin about the baby.
Every day, he asks, "Do you need to rest, for your baby?" or "Do you need some food, for your baby?" All this chivalry is making me swoon.
Yesterday he asked, "Are you going to have milk in your num-nums again, for your baby?" (So, we've always called breastmilk "num-nums", and I have no idea where in the world the kids got the idea that the vehicle(s) for milk were the num-nums, not the milk itself. YaYa will hold up one of my bras and say, "Is this for your num-nums?" and I just say yes. I guess it could be embarrassing later on, if they continue to believe that breasts are called num-nums, but for now, it's just really cute.)
But then, yesterday, I also realized that we should probably talk a little bit more about the technicalities of it all. We've talked about how the baby is swimming like a little fish, and how he doesn't breathe, because he has an umbilical cord (not sure if he has that yet, actually, but you know.) and how when he comes out, he'll take his first breaths, and the kids stare at me with big eyes.
But yesterday, Kid A thought about it for a while, and then asked, "So... are you going to, like, poop the baby out?"