I was having a baby brother. I waited on the couch impatiently, little feet barely reaching the edge of the cushions. I was told he was currently being delivered via... well, my parents had explained with candour. I wasn't sure, but I thought it was maybe best to be meeting him after he first saw light.
I'd had a fair bit of warning about this. I imagined he would be like a little doll... probably the type with blinking eyes, because surely baby brothers have to blink. I imagined I could pick him up and he would be as light as a piece of plastic. I imagined we could do dizzy wizzies together, although I'd be properly gentle, because I didn't want to break him like I did most of my toys.
The moment arrived. Mum and Dad entered the doorway. They were holding an enormous package. This week's shopping?
Nope. THAT was my baby brother. My parents loomed over me, faces smiling and nodding, and placed this enormous "baby" in my arms. He barely fit in my arms, and he seemed to weigh the equivalent of a bag of potatoes. I'd been told I was getting a LITTLE baby brother! THIS thing was an ENORMOUS baby brother.
Well, dizzy wizzies were out of the question. Nevertheless, I decided immediately that I was his second mother and that (this was important) he was MINE to play with.
I have loved babies and children ever since. Needless to say, as I grew, they did begin to look smaller and weigh less than a bag of potatoes. Now I am an adult and, from a baby's point of view, probably look like a giant from the top of Jack's beanstalk. All is relative.
Something did not change, though. I still share with children a certain sense of humour. I still think their games are fun. Moreover, I still love filling our gaps of knowledge with ludicrous and irrational logic. Kids do that so well. Thinking like a kid is what enables me to write.
I only wish my imagined worlds were real. Alas, there is no evidence of that. But you never know. Maybe somewhere else in the multiverse...
Written by Molly Billygoat.
I'd had a fair bit of warning about this. I imagined he would be like a little doll... probably the type with blinking eyes, because surely baby brothers have to blink. I imagined I could pick him up and he would be as light as a piece of plastic. I imagined we could do dizzy wizzies together, although I'd be properly gentle, because I didn't want to break him like I did most of my toys.
The moment arrived. Mum and Dad entered the doorway. They were holding an enormous package. This week's shopping?
Nope. THAT was my baby brother. My parents loomed over me, faces smiling and nodding, and placed this enormous "baby" in my arms. He barely fit in my arms, and he seemed to weigh the equivalent of a bag of potatoes. I'd been told I was getting a LITTLE baby brother! THIS thing was an ENORMOUS baby brother.
Well, dizzy wizzies were out of the question. Nevertheless, I decided immediately that I was his second mother and that (this was important) he was MINE to play with.
I have loved babies and children ever since. Needless to say, as I grew, they did begin to look smaller and weigh less than a bag of potatoes. Now I am an adult and, from a baby's point of view, probably look like a giant from the top of Jack's beanstalk. All is relative.
Something did not change, though. I still share with children a certain sense of humour. I still think their games are fun. Moreover, I still love filling our gaps of knowledge with ludicrous and irrational logic. Kids do that so well. Thinking like a kid is what enables me to write.
I only wish my imagined worlds were real. Alas, there is no evidence of that. But you never know. Maybe somewhere else in the multiverse...
Written by Molly Billygoat.
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