Baby Fever

Nathan loves babies. He seeks them out and can be quite obsessed with helping them, taking care of them, showing them affection, basically stalking them. There has even been a full blown meltdown in a children's clothing store where he insisted on buying infant clothing for the baby that he would somehow procure. When questioned as to how he would facilitate this plan, he has come up with varying answers from buying a baby at the store to taking one home from the park. Lest you be fearful that he would leave some poor woman childless, he has it worked out such that the family from which he will seize the baby will have other children, so they won't miss just one. He's thoughtful like that.

Nathan has now matured and grown and no longer talks of bringing strange babies home. Now he simply lets his needs be known along with asking for clarity around some of the details he has yet to work out.

Our conversation over breakfast yesterday morning:

"Mommy, I want a baby."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I want a baby in your tummy, then...a baby."

"Yes, I would like that too, but it's not always that easy."

He continued eating his breakfast and I went about packing his lunch for preschool and emptying the dishwasher. Have I mentioned that he is fascinated with how things work? Yes, very much so, and this was to be no exception.

"Mommy? But how does somebody get in your tummy to be a baby?"

My head spun with the many possibilities of how to answer the question. This question that we have known was imminent. I wanted to choose just the right amount of information to give him while at the same time laying the foundation for all the questions that would follow not only in this moment, but also in the years to come. Answers that do not meet his satisfaction are typically met with a barrage of additional questions that generally make my head hurt, lead me to pour a glass of wine and lock myself in my room. Being that it was 7am, I deemed this not to be the most appropriate course of action. After a few deep breaths, the simplicity of my answer emerged from the hollows of my brain while I noticed that he had been silent those 15 seconds of my despair. As I had struggled, he had moved on.

"Mommy? Did my water come from an animal?"

I was granted a reprieve for which I am grateful. The swift kick in the fanny was duly noted just the same.