The three-year-old will look me in the face (when I can see his wet pants and the circle on my favorite blue chair) and say, "No!" when I ask him if he peed on my chair.
The six-year-old will look me in the face and say, "He just fell down!" when I saw her push her brother less than a half-a-second ago.
But sometimes, they don't know how to be anything other than honest. And sometimes, it's brutal.
Many parents opt to wait to tell their children that another one is coming. Sometimes, they wait until one of them rudely shouts out, "Mom is FAT!" Sometimes, they wait until after the first trimester is over. Sometimes, they wait until they get the positive result back from the doctor's office (serum test) after they've peed on a stick at home. So, we're those last people.
When we found out we were pregnant, we couldn't wait to share the news with our little ones. They have only been asking for like MONTHS if we were going to have more babies. They had even chosen the gender they preferred (each originally chose a same-sex sibling, but then the boy changed his mind and decided that he wanted a second sister). The eldest even chose a name (Daisy Sunrose). Don't ask.
So, when we found out we had miscarried and there would be no new baby after all, it wasn't easy to break the news to them. This, after all, is the very reason that so many parents choose to wait.
The younger is three. I think he had forgotten there was a baby in Mommy's tummy. He seemed sort of oblivious. The older is six. She knew, but nothing we said really explained it to her. She seemed confused. "The baby is coming early?" she asked. No, not that. "But the baby's not in your tummy anymore?" Right. "So where is the baby now? Is she at the hospital?" No, no, no. Finally, I said the hardest thing I've ever had to say. "The baby died, honey. The baby is in heaven." Click. Light bulb. The look of recognition on her face was enough.
But then, she came over and kissed my tummy and said, "Goodbye, baby."
She probably couldn't understand why I was crying. Or maybe she did. Which is why maybe she thought it would somehow make me feel better to know how glad she was that I could pick her up again. Only, it didn't. I cried more. Daddy had to take over for a while, as I went to lie down.
Sometimes, kids don't know how to be anything other than honest. And sometimes, it's better to hear the lie.
