Quotables.
The talk.
Charlie (to me): Mommy, do you want to see my penis?
Me: Uh, ok. But we need to talk. You know you never show that to anyone else, right?
Charlie: See, mommy? See it?
Me: Yes. Only mommy and daddy should see it. And don't let anyone touch it.
Charlie: No one touches my penis?
Me: That's right. Except for mommy and daddy when we are washing you.
Charlie: Ok. I won't let Lucy touch it. And I won't touch Lucy's, either.
Me: Um, ok.

So I guess I need a brow wax.
Charlie [staring intently at my face, upper region.]
Me: What are you looking at?
Charlie: Your eyebrows.
Me: ok.
Charlie: What is that under your eyebrows? [Lifts brow hairs.] Oh, just more brown stuff.

And a cleaning.
While cuddling in bed with him this weekend...
Charlie: Mommy, I love you so much.
Me: I love you too, sweetie!
Charlie (with furrowed brow): Mommy, you have something in your teeth.
Me: Ok. I will brush them right after I'm done cuddling with you.
Charlie: Before they turn brown and fall out of your mouth?
Me: Yes, before then.

Charlie Dice Clay
Last night I was rummaging through the cubbards, trying to figure out what sounded good. Not thinking this innocent question could possibly be a set-up, I asked:
Do I smell cookie dough, or do I just smell what I am craving?
Husband: I don't know. It smells like vagina.
Charlie: It smells like va-gina!!!
Husband: [withholding laughter, not able to talk].
Charlie: It smells like.... vagina!
Me: Um.....
Charlie: It smells like vagina!!!!
Husband: No, we don't say... [laugher.]
Charlie: It smells like va-gin-a!
Me [to hubby]: You are so going into time-out.
Charlie: It smells like vagina!!! Vagina! Vagina! Vagina!
Husband [goes and stands in the corner]. Sorry.
Charlie: Vagina!

This should probably be a good time to add that our kitchen strictly smells like spices and sugar and honey and things.

Opening and Closing a Chapter

The night after we returned home from the hospital to watch Charlie's forehead get stitched back together, hubby and I returned home, exhausted and frazzled.

We weren't the only ones. When I went to pick up Will from the neighbor's house, he too was frazzled, except with him, the cause was separation anxiety. Each time I tried to put him to bed, he would wake up screaming, wanting to be held a little longer. After four attempts, I finally took him to bed with me.

Hubby later came in to kiss me sweetly and see if I was OK. Although I felt stressed out, I also felt so incredibly thankful for all that we have. “I love our baby boys,” I said. He smiled at me, then asked: “Want to try for the next one?”

Stunned silence. This coming from the man who made it abundantly clear that we would be done having kids after two. That he felt too “old” to keep procreating like a bunny rabbit. That he -- and I agreed -- wanted our time alone together as soon as possible. That we wanted things to be less hectic, and sooner.

I laughed it off and didn't say anything. I didn't want to jinx the possibility.

* * *

I spent the next two days exploring opposite sides of the fence.

At first: this odd feeling that I should want another child, yet I didn't. I should want a girl, right? Yet I feel complete without one. Three kids would be more fun that two, yes? Yet I feel my life is pretty full of fun already. Peace and quiet, that is what I want.

But then. How cool would it be to be pregnant again? To take each breath and deliver that breath to the life inside me? To literally push a life out into the world again? To see a new face that is both a combination of the two of us, and yet, its own unique being? To give both my boys a new little sibling to look after. A new little sibling that might possibly be a girl.

And then, hours later, the practical thoughts. If we have three, that will delay when I can return to the workforce – the workforce that will give me things like 401ks, pre-tax savings plans, adult interaction, coffee breaks. If I have three children, then as a daycare provider, I would have to let one of my daycare kids go and say goodbye to some significant income, too, as I can only legally watch a maximum of six kids... unless, I thought, I wait until Charlie is in Kindergarten, in which case I don't have to count him and I can have the income of four children... but if baby #3 is delayed until Charlie reaches Kindergarten, then I can't get pregnant for fourteen more months, allowing fourteen more months for hubby to discover a grey hair or feel old and change his mind.

And furthermore... if we have three, we would most certainly need a bigger house, one that is not already bursting at the seams, but we can't move into a bigger house until I have a traditional paycheck that a bank will count as legitimate, and if I get a traditional job then I can't stay home with my third baby and I want to give him or her what I gave my first two.

And the numbers. With three, it will be at least two more years until we are all sleeping through the night, and four-and-a-half more years until we can go to restaurants like civilized people, and two hundred and twenty-five more months until hubby and I can retire, child-free.

But if we have three, then maybe we can have a girl.

Later I go to the library and flip through Taking Charge of Your Fertility. I am not ready to buy it yet. But I skim the chapter on increasing one's odds of producing a girl.

* * *

Later, we are all driving to see Christmas lights downtown. I have a strange feeling that before I let this verbal boxing match continue in my brain any longer, I should clarify something.

Me: You know the other day when you mentioned trying for a third? You meant that, right?
Him: Oh, no, honey. I changed my mind about 30 seconds after I said it.
Me: Did you think maybe you should tell me? Because I've been thinking about it ever since.
Him: I'm so sorry. I thought we were pretty clear about this.

* * *

So, decision made. I was perfectly happy with two before, with only a fleeting question about what it would be like to have a girl, followed by a fleeting feeling that I didn't actually need one. And then I had two days where I allowed myself to picture this family of five, and to plan how to accomplish it. And now the door is closed and there is no more reason to think of it.