Do you remember the Newhart tv series in the 80s with a character called Larry and his brothers, Daryl and Daryl? Well, thanks to my blended family, I actually have three brothers, and two are named James. Although neither went by "James," as a kid I loved introducing us in just the way Larry did on the show.
Maybe that's why I always imagined I'd grow up to have a classic sit-com nuclear family: Me and my spouse, our 3 children, 2 cats and 1 dog.
Reality? We had two babies 18 months apart, then moved into a small 2 bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Not only did that nix the fur babies, but pretty much my dreams of a third child.
Which is why I was wistfully bemused a few weeks ago, as we neared the end of an excruciatingly long day in the car, when my two delightful little rebels started talking about how they wanted more siblings.
Check out the kid-logic sales pitch:
- BOTH insist a new baby can sleep in their beds with them.
- They will share ALL their toys.
- There will be no crying, no fighting, and rainbows will fill the baby's diapers, which my 4 and 6 year olds will obviously change themselves.