Speaking of birth …

My youngest just approached me and asked me out of the blue if I remembered him being born. (He’d just seen something about it on television, I think.)

I said, of course, yes, I did, and asked him if he remembered being born.

He gazed off for a moment, trying to remember, and of course, came up with nothing.

He said, “What was I born in?”

I said, “You came out of my tummy, and the doctor handed you to me, so that I could hold you.” And I cradled my arms as if I was holding a baby.

He’d been nearing me as we were talking, and up close, he looked at my arms with a concerned, thoughtful face.

“Was I dead?”

“No. You were born.”

“Did I cry in your tummy?”

“No. You laughed and played and kicked and got the hiccups.”

“Did you watch me in your tummy?”

“Yes.”

He seemed satisfied.

A. ... at about three months

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