Quinn has two families. A blood family and a skin family. He came up with these terms after I explained the relationship between him, me, my parents and my grandfather.
The “blood” family are those people who make up our big family circle – aunts, uncles, grandparents. The “skin” family is his term for those people we love, who have no family tree link, like my friend Steph and his friends from school.
He’s tried a number of times to convince me to add one of his school friends to our blood family so he can have a sibling. He does not seem impressed by the thought of jail time for me on kidnapping charges.
Apparently sensing a roadblock from me, he turned to his father. I discovered that this morning when Quinn came to me, sat on the chair next to me while I took my first sips of coffee.
Mama. When am I going to have a sister?
Well, buddy. You’re probably not going to have a blood sister.
That’s not what Daddy said and Daddy’s right. (Daddy is always right)
Wait. What? WHAT???
Daddy says I can have a sister if you can go see a doctor and a doctor can let you have a baby sister for me ’cause you’re old, but maybe not too old. So go tell the doctor to give you the special hug, ’cause I want a sister.
The sweet earnestness in his voice couldn’t overwhelm the fact that there are so many things wrong with that thought process that I don’t know what to kill my husband for first.
1. Getting Quinn’s hopes up, even a tiny bit.
2. WTF? Since when am I old?
3. Special hug? That so did not come from me.
4. Even if we clear all the other stuff away, brothers are just as likely as sisters.
I couldn’t voice any of that to Quinn, so I just stared stupidly at him for a moment, then announced that it was time for breakfast.
So, first an open question to my husband: What the fuck were you thinking???
And second, an open question to me. What the fuck are you thinking?
‘Cause now I’m thinking.