I wrote this post while I was pregnant with Grubbalo and Crackernut and Ponymad Girl were trying to understand what having a new baby meant.
Tonight, I was sat with my six-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter on the sofa and my son raised the topic of my going into labour. I reminded him that he was born just a few feet in front of us, on the lounge carpet, which he finds unreal.
When I asked him how he would feel when he hears the news that the baby is here, he said he’d not like it as it means I will spend all my time caring for the baby and won’t have any left for him; that people will bring the baby presents; and, importantly, that the baby will get the ‘day off’ (meaning school). Continue reading