Two of my coworkers, Matt and Shawn, are longtime friends both in the office and after hours. They good-naturedly joke that they find it incredibly novel that I actually
want the baby I'm carrying (as well as any future ones the Lord sends me), given the fact that I've been around children long enough to "know better". Each of them has five children of their own, which means I get a lot of stories like the following, which took place when Matt and Shawn were preparing to leave for a hunting trip. Shawn's 2-year-old created a challenge just before their scheduled departure...
Matt: "The little runt had discovered my food locker and was unwrapping every Pop Tart in the thing, one at a time. He would unwrap one, take a bite, throw it on the grass, and move on to the next one. I caught him with a Pop Tart in each hand. He was a mess. He had red and blue junk ALL over his face. He was busted. He took one look at me, yelped ('EEEP!'), and took off running in the other direction. The lawn was strewn with foil wrappers...half-eaten, smooshed-up Pop Tarts everywhere..."
Shawn (shaking his head ruefully): "...it was like a Pop Tart murder scene."
*sigh* This is why I love my coworkers.
But my mind remains unchanged about the baby thing. ;)
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