Last
weekend Robby woke up early on Sunday. He sleepily walked into the
living room and, looking at me with drowsy eyes with his bed tangled
hair, immediately began to tell me that we are going to need to get a
stroller before the baby comes out of my tummy. I was delighted that he
was thinking about bringing the baby home and, not wanting to miss this
opportunity, I asked him if he would be willing to help me pick out the
perfect stroller. He may not be enthusiastic about having a sibling, but
he has certainly shown that he can get behind the shopping aspect of
preparing for a baby.
After a quick
breakfast, we piled into the SUV and headed to Toys R Us. Robby took his
job as the family's official stroller test-driver with the seriousness I
anticipated. He happily pushed each and every stroller (forcing Scott
to heave each one off and on the top display rack) while providing
valuable feedback. He was precise and particular about the features he
was seeking. Thankfully, in the end we both agreed on the same stroller/
car seat combo. He wasn't eager to discuss the baby anymore that day,
and we decided to not push our luck and were simply happy that he was
willing and excited to test strollers.
The
other night he handed me a half-eaten small bag of Cheetos, offering to
share his beloved snack. Without thinking I took one of the little
orange treats and popped it into my mouth. As soon as I swallowed Robby
became highly vocal and animated. "Momom, stop! You didn't chew that
Cheeto enough. The baby doesn't have teeth and probably has a tiny tiny
small mouth. The baby is going to choke if you don't chew your food
better!" With that declaration he grabbed the bag of Cheetos out of my
hand and walked (quite dramatically) into the kitchen.
Taken
aback by his sincere (albeit strong) reaction to my chewing, I heard
him clanging around in the kitchen. He presented me with a cup of water,
at which point I was directed to drink to try to help the baby chew the
Cheetos. I obliged and tried to figure out how to address his
concerns. Before I had a chance, he had returned to the kitchen and the
commotion continued.
A few minutes later
he returned to my side, this time holding out an opened can of Scooby
Doo condensed chicken noodle soup. He had stuck a spoon in the center of
the gelatinous, cold, yellow tinged liquid. At this point I realized
his intent was for me to eat it. He explained, "Momom, I think that you
should stick with soft food like pudding and soup until the baby is
born. We don't want the baby to choke because you don't chew enough."
I
put the soup on the side table and pulled him onto my lap. I explained
that it was very sweet for him to be so concerned about the baby, and
assured him that he was going to be a wonderful big brother. I also
explained that the baby doesn't eat food but rather the vitamins and
minerals are absorbed through the umbilical cord. (He has seen the
umbilical cord because, on the latest sonogram picture, it is firmly
wrapped around the baby's neck.) After some assurances from his Daddy
that my chewing will not pose a choking risk, he seemed satisfied that
all was well.
Between the stroller, and
his concern about the baby choking, I think Robby is definitely coming
to terms with a baby entering our family. I know that he will continue
to adjust and have no illusions that the transition will always be
smooth. However, I am hopeful that we are on the path towards
acceptance, if not excitement, that he is going to be a big brother.
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