Get In

He went running to his crib. "I get in?"

"No," I said.

He went running to his mommy. "I get in?" He was so hopeful.

"No." I'd never seen a crestfallen toddler. "You're going to have a little brother or sister."

"I'm little."

"But you'll be the big brother."

"But I'm little."

"Yes, but they'll be littler."

He looked at his mommy and back at his crib. He walked toward it, studying it, took its bars in his big brother hands, and turned to me.

"No," he said. "I get in." And he left the room. His mother and I are there now, hands against her belly, listening to our eldest plot and play, wondering if we should repaint.