Laylee has made peace with the concept of death in fishes.Â She just told me that when JackAgain dies, we will have to get a new fish and we will name her Kafrin Lafrin Bitsy Thompson Laylien.Â This name I like.Â
It’s sort of a relief to think that if we do get pregnant again, Laylee will be there to come up with a name and all Dan and I will have to worry about will be minor details like food, shelter and post-partum cocktails.Â Just trifles, really.Â Maybe by then, the pills will come in fruity flavors and then we’ll have one less thing on our minds.
Laylee really wants us to have a girl baby, possibly tonight.Â Last week she told me that she was gonna remind Jesus to send us one and then tonight she said, “Aren’t we lucky that we’re gonna get a girl baby?!”
Me:Â Well, that’s up to Heavenly Father if he wants to send us one sometime.
Laylee:Â I think he’s building it RIGHT NOW!
Me:Â Well, after he builds it, he’s gonna have to figure out a way to get it into my tummy or it will never grow big enough to come out and play.
Laylee:Â How’s it gonna get out?
Me:Â The doctor will take it out.
Laylee then described an Aliens-worthy scenario involving a gaping wound and the attachment of a large flap of skin to make my tummy all better.Â Very reassuring.
The conversation quickly turned to other things, like how Tuesday’s her BALLERINA CLASS WITH MISS MICHELLE and then her head exploded so I’ll have to update you on her health and whether I was able to find a skin flap big enough to put it all back together in time for her dancing debut.
I really hope she likes the class.Â Just the thought of her in that leotard with 14 other 3-year-olds in ballet and tap shoes leaping around like adoreable spazoids makes me dry-heave from the unbearable cuteness.Â I’m almost as excited as she is.
reasons:Â white sailboats on a blue Lake Washington summer day, fat cheeks resting on the shoulders of a sleeping toddler, ballet shoes the size of a Vlasic stacker, Dan reading jokes from the Reader’s Digest