Week 14: The one where the kids find out

When I found out I was pregnant, my husband and I decided that we’d wait to tell our two older kids (ages 5 and 3) until after we had the first ultrasound. Because you just never know what might happen, and I certainly didn’t want to have to explain why we suddenly weren’t having a baby anymore, in the event that something went wrong.

Now, I do realize that something can still go wrong but the chances are less. And we had to tell them eventually. They’re small but perceptive and would certainly notice when I started eating all the hotdogs and waddling like a duck. Although … it would also be fun to just go away for a few days and then show up back at home with a new baby and be like, HA HA, SUCKERS! (But maybe I just have a sick sense of humor.) Also, kids are terrible secret keepers. So we decided to wait to tell them.

In the meantime we dropped all kinds of hints. (So while I say they’re perceptive, they’re not really because I asked them each at least 12 times if they thought we should have another baby, and they never caught on that maybe the reason I was asking was because it was going to happen.) They were pretty consistent with their answers. They both were steadfastly opposed to having another baby.

The 5-year-old didn’t want another baby because she doesn’t want to have to change anymore diapers. I followed up, asking her how many diapers she has changed to date, and she had to admit that the answer is zero. So, not really a solid argument, my tiny friend.

The 3-year-old said that he didn’t want a new baby because he likes our 1-year-old. I explained that we wouldn’t be getting rid of the 1-year-old; we would be getting another baby, in addition to the 1-year-old.  His reply? “Nah, one baby is enough.”

After several weeks of asking them if they thought we should have another baby (and them consistently answering in the negative), we decided we’d go ahead and break the news to them …

We told the 3-year-old as he was eating breakfast one morning. He saw a pair of baby booties laying on the kitchen table and asked who they were for. So we told him we are having another baby. He looked at us, abandoning his cereal bar and applesauce for the moment, and said, “What? No. WHY?!?”

Each word a separate and distinct thought.

He hasn’t mentioned a word about the baby since.

We told the 5-year-old after she returned from visiting her grandparents in North Carolina for three weeks. To be honest, I was a little worried about her response. She can be pretty direct. And by ‘can be,’ I mean she always is. She just lays it all out there. Tells it like it is. So I was a little scared that she’d have a meltdown or insist on moving out or something.  Instead, when we told her, she was basically overjoyed and just kept shouting, “I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” Definitely not the response we were expecting, but we’ll take it!

And now that she knows, she tells everyone she sees that we’re having another baby ” … “and that’s why Mommy’s tummy is so fat.”

Kids are the best.