For every time The Imp makes me all look-up-at-the-sky-and-shake-my-fisty, there are several times he makes me all ok-now-you've-just-done/said-the-SWEETEST-thing.
This morning as we were driving to daycare, I reminded The Imp that we were going to give some of his baby stuff to friends who are expecting.
The Imp: [names redacted] having a baby?
Me: Yes, they're having a baby girl, and we're going to give the baby some of your old things you don't use anymore.
The Imp: Booster seat and stroller?
Me (pleased that he remembered, and that he doesn't seem to mind giving his things away): That's right! We're going to give the baby girl your old booster seat and stroller.
The Imp: Wanna see the baby girl.
Me: We can't see the baby girl yet, she's still growing inside her mommy's tummy. We'll be able to see her soon. You can be like her big brother!
The Imp, thinking....
The Imp: Wanna read books to the baby.
Pause, as I gulp back sudden sobs.
Me: I'm sure the baby girl would love to have you read her books.
And just like that, my heart breaks wide open. The plan was always that The Imp is 1 of 1. He'll never have a sibling, and suddenly that's killing me.