A Pink Baby

“Boy, would you like another baby?”

Our family of four was snuggled in his bed.

We had read our books and said our prayers.

We were laying in the dark, enjoying our last few minutes together.

Lullabies and a white noise machine mingled across the room.

These are the times when we talk about our adventures of the day or our upcoming plans.

Or weighty issues.

Like asking an almost-three year-old if we should have another baby.

We aren’t, by the way, having another baby.

But we are always looking to gauge his reaction to this baby.

And, I suppose, to see whether he might be interested in another.

At some point down the road.

But not now.

“Yes,” he answered. “I want another baby.”

I breathed.

Gratitude and relief flowed.

He was still happy with our new addition.

Every day is easier.

Every day, happier.

Every day, we find a better rhythm.

Finally, the sun in my life is shining again.

“I want a new baby and our Baby to share her little tiny crib. Can they share that crib?”

He held his hands up to show us how small the crib seems to him, a big boy.

A big boy who asks, not infrequently, to exchange his full bed for his “little” toddler bed.

He continued. “I have a baby in my tummy. It’s getting ready to come out.”

He flexed his stomach muscles to mimic the movements of a full term baby.

Beneath his footed flannel pajamas, his stomach undulated.

It was a surprisingly accurate impression.

And then, suddenly, he stopped.

Something had occurred to him.

“But—can I have a pink baby?”

A pink baby?

That request surprised me.

I mean, to be honest, the one we have is pretty pink.

Her skin is pink. Her clothes are pink. Her pacifiers are pink.

I don’t know how much more pink you can get.

At least without dyeing a baby’s hair.

Which isn’t really my scene.

“Or maybe just another pink easter egg cookie,” he said, referencing a cookie he’d eaten a month ago.

Apparently it was a memorable cookie.

Perhaps more memorable than acquiring a sibling.

I fought my laughter.

And found my voice. “So do you want a pink baby or a pink cookie?”

He thought for a second before pronouncing his verdict.

“A cookie. I want a pink cookie.”

A cookie it is.