There was a time when Chris and I had contemplated the possibility of increasing the size of our brood. A few years back, we had a long discussion about whether or not we wanted to have one more child. We ultimately decided that two was a good number for us, and as such, there will be no more niños becoming part of this Hale household. I knew I had finally come to peace with the idea when I was able to bring myself to getting rid of baby stuff. I wil admit that I have hung on to a lot of the girls' clothes from when they were little babies because I just can't bear to part with many of them. However, as my friends and relatives have had their babies, I have offered up high chairs, the swing, carseats, strollers, the playpen, Exersaucer, bouncer, etc. to those without. It was kind of difficult because to me it signified a definite end to a period of our lives - - no more rocking babies, giving bottles, hearing first words, seeing first smiles and steps....it was hard at first, but I knew it was the right thing for us. Before long, I felt peace with it. (Besides, I was amazed and excited when I saw how much room it freed up in the basement.)
As Chris tends to remind me, I would probably totally surrender if we had three kids. At least with two, we are even - - one more, and we would be outnumbered. What he is referring to though is the fact that my resistance has significantly weakened between child #1 and child #2. When Maggie was younger, I was much more apt to correct her conduct or give a stricter punishment for misbehavior. With Aleita, there are things that I find amusing that I used to hand out punishments for - - I know - - life is so unfair for the oldest child. I used to be able to control my laughter, but I think I have just gotten worn down.
Case in point - - a few nights ago, we had just finished having dinner. I was cleaning up the dishes, and Chris got up from the table and started to head downstairs to change the laundry from the washer to the dryer. He was about two steps out of the kitchen when Aleita let out a belch loud enough to wake the neighbors. There was a few seconds of silence that followed, which she broke with, “Whoa…that was a good one!”
Chris hightailed it back up the stairs to remind her that we say “excuse me” when we burp, and not “that was a good one,” as well as the fact that we don’t belch at the table. He arrived just in time to see me head into the bathroom, dirty plate and spatula still in hand. I had tried just turning my back to her, but I knew I was shaking uncontrollably with laughter and didn’t want her to figure out that her comment totally cracked me up. I was very close to letting out audible laughter, so I headed into the bathroom and set the plate and spatula down and flushed the toilet to cover the sound. After about a minute, I regained enough composure to rejoin them in the kitchen. Chris just looked at me somewhat disgustedly and shook his head and said, “You are so weak.”
I fully admit it. And as for that belch, she was right….it WAS a good one.