Saying Robbie’s pretty excited about being a big brother is an understatement. I’m not sure if he’s more excited about the idea of the baby itself or the transformative leap he’s expecting to make when he becomes a Big Brother. Capitalization is intentional here because, believe me, this is how he sees it.
My having a baby is all well and good for me, but what’s really important in his view is that it makes him into something… more.
Many a conversation begins around here with “When I’m a Brother…” or ends with “that’s just for Brothers, right?” Sometimes I sense he is expecting this promotion to put him on a level with “Moms and Dads”, which is what Robbie calls all adults. I can just see the power struggles coming our way. I half wonder if he will be shocked to discover Big Brothers still have to brush their teeth, go to bed and pick up their toys.
At other times he surprises me with his sweetness and anticipation for the baby itself. Like when he tells me he heard the baby giggle inside me. Or when he suggests we name the baby Buttercup. Or when he brings me his too-small socks and tells me to save them for the baby. Or when he insists the baby should be a girl because girls like horses and therefore, we’ll have to buy her some.
Last week Toby and I were going away for a couple nights while my sister-in-law watched Robbie, her son and the house. Before I left, Robbie asked “So we’re all in charge when you’re gone, right?”
“No, Rikki’s in charge.”
“Why can’t the kids be in charge?”
“Because usually its the oldest person who’s in charge. Like if I were going to the store while you and your little brother or sister were staying home, you’d be in charge.”
“Yessssss! Thank you mom.”
He was so enamored of the idea, I didn’t tell him that I meant this scenario could happen in about five years…not as soon as the baby arrives.