Mid-afternoon exhaustion had gotten the best of me, and although the kids had just woken up from their naps, I found myself lying in a giant, pregnant heap on the playroom floor. They frolicked and played around me, and as she usually does when I’m lying down, Number Three (due in two months) started kicking. They were the kind of kicks wherein you can actually see the limb protruding from my belly and skimming the surface before retreating back to her fetal curl. So I called the kids over to see if anyone wanted to “see” their sister.
Noah ran over and placed his hand ever so gently on my belly. I watched him watch her with genuine wonder in his gaze, but neither shock nor fear ever crossed his face.
“I love you, new baby,” he whispered, and laid his head across my lap with his arm around my waist.
“I’m going to teach the baby a new word,” he added. “Tuuuuuuuuuurd.”