Did you think I had the baby already? I'm good, but I'm not that good. I won't take an official blogging break when she arrives, but the whole act of labor and delivery might throw off my posting schedule just a wee bit. In the meantime, there's someone else I'd like you to meet. THIS is Baby Cute:
Blake pulled her out of a bin at Walmart weeks before Christmas and I couldn't ignore his squeals of joy. Instead of controlling my child, I snapped photos instead:
Then my people called Santa's people and explained that we needed Baby Cute to arrive on Christmas morning, and we needed a pink stroller to go with it.
Some think this is great—that I, I mean, Santa, got my son a baby doll for Christmas. Others think it's strange. Still others have suggested it may be difficult to pass the doll over to his sister after she's born. I just smile and say, "The doll is not for the baby. It's Blake's." In fact, he's the one who came up with the name Baby Cute. The Christmas before that, we got him a kitchen because I noticed he played with the one at the gym daycare. (Random side note: if you stand outside Big Lots before it opens to take advantage of a $10 kid kitchen, it may or may not be a piece of junk).
Yes, the boy who rocks his Paper Jamz guitar and tries to vaporize me with invisible lasers shooting from his fingers also plays with kitchens and dolls. Unlike what some people suggest, this is not because he has a baby sister on the way. At preschool, Blake goes straight to the babies. He sings to his teddy bears and gives them juice. The other day I overheard him consoling Baby Cute.
"Baby Cute sad. She cry," Blake said.
I have no idea how he'll feel about the real, live baby who's about to come into our home. We've told him about Cate, but I think he has her confused with Baby Cute. Here's what I do know: I have a husband who will rock a baby to sleep, change a diaper, clean the house and cook dinner. I couldn't imagine telling Blake he couldn't have a doll or a kitchen because it's a girl toy.
Cate's room is almost ready. It's spewing pink. But I don't have any preconceived ideas about her personality or the types of things that will interest her. That's part of the fun. It's part of the learning.