We were at a swim meet last night at the hard to find, but quite lovely Normandy Park Pool. It was sunny, and only about sixty degrees, but the boys didn’t seem to mind much. They’re getting used to swimming with a wind chill. We’re all sitting around in camping chairs and Bennett looks up at me, wrapped in towels, goggles perched on the top of his head, and asks, “So, Mummy, when are you going to have another baby?”
I knew this question was coming, if only because Efram likes to tell perfect strangers that in our family every two years we get a new baby.. but I wasn’t quite ready for it last night.
“I don’t think I am.”
“What??!” Efram blurted out. “You have to! We need a boy to even things out!”
Bennett chimes in,”But I thought you were going to keep going until you were 60.”
Not even considering the biological obstacles, I said to him, “If I had a baby every two years until I’m 60, you could have 16-17 siblings. I’d never see you. Do you want that?”
To which my lovely little Efram replies, “but when we move away, you won’t be lonely.”
I shoot him a pained look, “When you WHAT?” I say.
“I mean, when I move next door,” he corrects himself.
I tell them that five is enough for the Geller household and quickly distract them before their minds start to wonder how on earth I can predict how many we’ll have when I haven’t been completely truthful about how any of them got here.
But I’ll leave that for another swim meet.