Ty is obsessed with babies. OBSESSED.
He sees them at Target and immediately stalks the parent holding the tiny infant. He notices babies at the park and stands as close as humanly possible without being that.weird.kid breathing on baby-holder’s kneecaps. I’ve had to remind him it’s not like asking to touch the neighbor’s dog. You can’t say, “Can I
pet hold your baby, kind stranger?” No, sweets, hands off.
It’s when we know the person holding, feeding or changing a baby, that all bets are off.
At a birthday party over the weekend where a newborn was present, he asked three times if we could “borrow the baby.” I don’t know what plans he has, but the boy is scheming. If he makes me a grandma before I’m 42, you’ll be getting calls, people.
So it was no surprise that in the car, from the backseat, comes his declarative wish, “Mom, I want there to be a BABY.IN.YOUR.TUMMY!”
I ceased car-dancing, turned down Katy Perry, and the brakes in my mind screeched to a halt.
With my finger wagging, I’m like, “Oh sweet child, I think having you two (Point at one son. Point at the other) are just enough fabulous for this family.”
You wouldya thought I’d been clear with all that finger- pointing.
“Mom,” comes his sweet voice ramping up like a loud motor, “I wish we had A MILLION BABIES IN OUR FAMILY.”
“Oh, Ty (insert chuckle and chokes) if we had a million babies in our family, your mama would be committed.
To which, Tanner asks, “What’s committed mean?”
“It means I’d be put away for being crazy.”
“But you’re ALREADY crazy, mom,” Tanner states without batting an eye.
And, that my friends, is just a typical car conversation in the Pogue family.
If anyone has a baby on lend, please, for the love, can Ty hold them?