20 minute pregnancy... Dreams really DO come true!

I could take them down, but why? Every day she sneaks into my office and hands me another one of her deliberate masterpieces, "Here mommy... I made this for you!"

Sometimes I'm super skinny with pigtails and other times my body looks more like a cardboard box wearing clown shoes and a rubber wig; but one thing remains the same... We are always smiling–and nine times out of ten, we are holding hands. 

Throughout the years I've collected some rather interesting pieces–some framed, some crinkled and tossed in a box. I only weed out the ones that she did in a hurry–like the Tornado piece that was nothing more than a series of scribbles on notebook paper. You're probably wondering if I have a favorite, which I do, but not for the reason you might think.

It showed up on my desk one afternoon when I was pretending not to notice. She laid it down gently on the side of my desk and crept back into the living-room, eagerly awaiting my response. What the HELL? I thought... Why was I pregnant? She had been hinting for months that she wanted a baby sister, but divine intervention wasn't about to comeknockin' on MY front door, and neither was the postman. I carried the drawing into the living-room and sat down next to her. "Honey..." I said while placing my finger on the clearly pregnant woman in the rainbow leotard, "Who is this?" She looked up at the picture and smiled, "Oh, that's daddy!" 

From then on, it was laughter and chaos. We discussed her technique and rather peculiar use of color–then she showed me something that I hadn't seen. Perhaps I was too focused on what I thought were my soon-to-be twin girls; but there it was–plain as day. It was hard not to laugh when she pointed out the original, more svelte, version of him that was scribbled out due to the inferior likeness... So I did. I laughed loud and I laughed hard– then I picked up the phone to call her pregnant father to see what time he'd be home for dinner. 

I may not keep them all, but I'd be a fool to let this one go; and the next time I catch him eating an entire box of Chocolate Cheerios while sitting on the couch in his underwear, I'm whipping this sucker out and serving it to him on an oversized mirror. 



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