When we sat down to tell the kids about the pregnancy, Erin was sure Henry was not going to take it well. I didn't agree. Despite the fact that he isn't terribly fond of his 18-month-old sister (who likes to mess with his stuff), he's always loved little babies.
When we told him, his face held a glaze for a moment. "Mummy, is that the truth?"
"Of course it is, sweety."
"No, Mummy. Tell me the truth."
"There's a new, little baby in my tummy."
"Mummy, don't joke. Tell me the truth."
It wasn't that he didn't understand the concept of baby-in-tummy, it's that he knew this was Big. Once he established truth from fiction, he was not pleased. He screamed and cried and told us to make the baby not be born.
Jane just got a puzzled look on her face, pointed at Erin's belly and said, "Beebee?"
It took about six hours for Henry to warm up to the idea. We kept reminding him about what little babies are like, and how all they do is sleep, eat, poop and not play with toys. Now he's the baby's biggest advocate.
He delights in telling strangers about it. When we called our families to tell them, he loved being the guy to break the news. "It's right in her tummy. It won't come until after my birthday."
Erin is still in a bit of shock, though the queasiness is very real. It began subtly early this week, but is pretty strong right now. Between that and the pre-existing fatigue from 24/7 mummathon, it ain't terribly fun being Erin. If the first two pregnancies are any indication, the morning sickness (what a stupid name) should clear up in about six weeks (please let it clear up in six weeks).
As always, she's a lovely pregnant lady. I don't know how she does it.
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