Last night I had a dream that we had a baby. A month later, our little one had developed into about a one year old, walking, babbling, signing and even playing at potty training. In my dream, no one seemed to notice the rapid growth except for me. I started doing the math and realized he was just a month old. I asked my husband if he thought there was anything unusual about a walking one-month old and he said that all our children were fast to develop. I think the incongruity of the whole thing is what finally woke me up.
While making breakfast with my girl, I shared my dream with her. Her only comment? “I hope I have girls.”
So I told her how I had really hoped her older brother had been a girl. Not so much because I wanted to play dress up—though that was certainly a factor—but because I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to raise a boy. I only have sisters and my dad was out of the house by the time I was seven. Boys were a little scary to me and I didn’t want to be responsible for screwing one up.
So, how did my girl respond? “Will you learn how to raise a boy soon?” Nice, huh?