You know what? Children. They are strange. One thing I've been struck by recently is the capacity children have to simply accept crazy things as reality, without any particular comment.
When Owen was born, I was convinced that Sam, the center of our universe, would collapse into a black hole of abandonment and deprivation. But he had less reaction to Owen joining the family than he had to Cayden getting a frog. He was just like, "Oh. Right then. New baby. I'll not be touching it. Get me a cracker."
We just up and do these things to kids and mostly they just . . . roll with it.
This baby we're working on now moves. A lot. I keep expecting it to freak somebody out someday, but I guess people just avert their eyes from the giant belly I am continually scratching. The other day, Chris talked to the baby while Sam was watching and the baby moved, quite visibly. Shouldn't that freak a four-year-old out? It freaks me out. I keep googling "fetus bursting through uterus" to see if there has ever been a real-life recreation of that scene from Aliens.
But no, Sam is totally chill with the idea of a new baby, and a surging mommy-tummy and many other things.
And yet, juxtaposed with this calm acceptance is the fact that you will need the good lord's HELP if you try to dress Sam or Owen in jeans instead of cozy pants. All clothes must be able to double as pajamas. Or they shall not touch their delicate skin.
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