“We’d have some good lookin’ kids,” he says, “cute little dark haired Irish kids with blue eyes.”
Yes, we would. I’m sure of it and I can see their little faces smiling at me already. They’re definitely cute as hell.
I also have this vision of John Bear, by then fully trained in the ways of kitchen duty, juggling a baby and a spatula, flipping eggs and yelling at the dog – all at the same time.
A studly dad in the kitchen. These are the daydreams of a single mother.
“And if we do ever have kids you’ll probably have twins,” he lays this out like it’s a perk or something.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shakes his head, “No, there’s a strong twin gene in my family. I’m next in line.” As he’s listing his relatives who have twins I add another child to my kitchen vision.
Now he’s holding two in one arm with their sweet dark tufts of hair and their bright blue eyes, or maybe one of them will have my dark eyes. And then there’s Benjamin. Maybe he’s setting the table.
And where am I? Probably trying to breath somewhere or frantically shopping for nannies.
Having one was hard enough. But as John Bear says, “You wouldn’t be alone this time and you’d have help, a lot of help.”
He’s childless he has no idea what it’s like – newborns are hard, hard, hard work. But he wants to have his own children, he’s as ready as he’ll ever be. And I do too.
We both want two more so why not knock them both out with one pregnancy?
Could be a nice two for one deal.
And let me know what you think about the idea of me – having twins. I mean what do you do if the love of your life happens to have a twin gene, a fricking twin gene? Just my luck, right? Oh me, oh my.
Any bearers of twins here who have lived to tell about it?