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My preschooler knew I was pregnant long before I planned to tell her. I’d been waiting to pass the genetic screening before I rocked my kid’s world, yet when I was only five weeks along, she threw her arms around me, looked deeply into my eyes and implored, “Mommy, what are you going to name your baby?”

Kids and animals, right? They know things, like when an earthquake is coming, if there’s a ghost present, and whether mom is smuggling an embryo.

I assumed my little psychic would be thrilled about our baby news. For at least a year, she’d been requesting a sibling — specifically, a little sister.  Unfortunately, I’d been having trouble conceiving, and her inquiries hurt my heart. I wanted to deliver so badly (pun intended). So once I finally got pregnant — with a girl, as ordered — I thought I was going to win Mom of the Year. Not so fast.

That old adage, “Be careful what you wish for,” seems to have been written for my 4-year-old, who has very mixed feelings about welcoming a new addition.

Sometimes she kisses my belly, murmuring “I love you, little baby.”

belly talk

Other times she “accidentally” jumps on my bump. (That ain’t no trampoline, kid.)

When we’re shopping, she’ll notice teeny baby clothes and want desperately to buy them for little sister.

But when I unpacked her old clothes to take inventory, she squeezed herself into a size 12 months dress, exclaiming, “Mommy, this still fits me. It’s mine! Mine!”

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