Recently, Kings had been caring for Rockstar more, as I slowly recovered from a cough and cold – resulting in him being unable to leave the home at any time without announcing his intentions at least 15 minutes earlier, because that’s how long it takes to detach a deliberately clingy Rockstar (who loves seeing how much he can get away with, with his father…) So as the door closes behind Kings on another such morning…..
Me: When Mummy’s in the hospital having the baby you’re really gonna torture Daddy aren’t you?
<Rockstar grins and nods his head vigorously>
Me: There’s no egg in your breakfast again (because he keeps pulling wide-eyed, straight-faced, “I don’t eat eggs for breakfast, Daddy,” when actually he has two with noodles or fried rice most mornings.. In fact Rockstar has gotten away with the same several times, because Kings usually forgets…). Do you think you could maybe help Daddy out a little by telling him what you really eat/ when you really sleep/wake up etc when I’m having the baby?
Rockstar: Nope. Can’t. Too much fun.
Rockstar: <quietly, seriously> Mum. Would the baby one day be bigger than me?
(I’m thinking Oh Dear, it had crossed my mind – I often tell Rockstar part of the reason he’s the smallest in school is cos he’s youngest – and I was wondering when/if he realized he is however also very small for his own age…)
Me: Yes, darling, it’s possible she could grow to be bigger than you are. But you have a 4-year head start so she probably won’t be able to catch up for a very long time even if she was meant to grow taller than you are.
Rockstar: <brightens visibly> Like maybe in Grade 10?
Me: Yeah, something like that. And 4 years developmentally is a lot, until you’re grown up you’ll be learning the cooler stuff for older kids despite any size difference…
Rockstar: Ok, I’m fine with that.