A question from the backseat –
“When was I born?” Otto Fox asks.
“Was I born last? Was I the last baby?”
I tell him he was. He was born last. He was the last baby.
Pitifully sad noises. Sniffling.
“What’s wrong, little son?”
“Oh,” says the sad little four year old voice. “I don’t care for being last.”
2 Comments
shelley
Adorable ::sniff::
lacey35
I know. Tears tears.
I guess the only solution is to add a new sibling.