My four-year-old son and his eggplant sibling
So my pregnancy ticker tells me week by week how big my new baby is in relation to produce. My nearly four-year-old son loves it. He’s an on-hands learner (His grandmother the teacher says it’s a ‘kinesthetic learner’) and it gives him a tactile idea of how big our new wiggly addition to the family has grown. He asks me constantly how big the baby is now and really grasps the process of growing with the progression of fruits and veggies.
No, that’s not my daughter: how being a sister prepared me for motherhood
Sometime in 8th grade I went to the store with my mom and my youngest sister, AJ. I remember people watching the three of us walking through the store with quizzical looks. They would look first at my mom, then to me, then to AJ, then back to me. Finally, as we made our way through the checkout, the cashier looked at me and said “Your daughter is so cute,” then back to my mother and finished “You are a lucky grandma!” I stared, my 14-year-old self feeling completely embarrassed and horrified, as my mom calmly answered, “Actually, I’m the mom. They are both mine.”