A couple of months ago, we broke some news to the children. We told them we were expecting a baby and it would be arriving in May. Our six-year-old daughter jumped up and down with excitement totally thrilled. “I thought you looked fatter,” she cried. The Toddler shared her glee, not quite sure why he was cheering but enjoying the moment anyway. Our five-year-old son reacted as if I had just told him supper was ready. He looked up briefly, said nothing and returned to his Power Rangers game.
Our daughter quickly said, “I’m happy to do any night feeds for you. Perhaps the baby should sleep in my room to make it easier.” Hooray for daughters enthusiastic about taking on the role of a maternity nurse.
The Toddler has now adjusted to the idea of having a new sibling, helped by my daughter’s constant talk of babies. With his head bent down towards my tummy, he shouts, “You be good for Mummy.” Not surprisingly, he has no concept of time and as far as he is concerned the baby is arriving at any moment. Each morning, he goes into the baby’s room and peers into his old cot. “Baby not here yet, Mummy,” he shouts. If only it were that simple, I think to myself.
The other regular topic raised by my forward-thinking daughter is what to call the baby. Desperately hoping that she may finally have a sister, to dilute the boys, she runs through lists of girls’ names, focusing heavily on all those featured in Mamma Mia and High School Musical. Our five-year-old has been making lists of all the boys’ names in his class, ignoring any suggestion that it could be a girl. He says, “I just have to have a brother because I’m bored of the one I’ve got.” Eventually, they settle on the name, ‘Dotty’, which is now what the baby is referred as. They came up with this based on the simple reason that at that time the baby was tiny, not much bigger than a dot or a full stop.
Each day, my daughter asks, “Do you feel Dotty is a girl or a boy today Mummy?” I reply truthfully that I have absolutely no idea as all the symptoms are different from any previous pregnancy, be it male or female. My son looks up, “Oh I know. Dotty is a border terrorist.” Let’s hope not. Happy New Year.
