The weekend ritual at bed time is that the oldest boy gets into bed with me. It's his old, very little boy habit. I was a typical first time mother and had him in our bed until he was nearly three I swear. He would still sleep there every single night if allowed.
But now there is a third member of our night time snuggle before sleep.
The girl is there, with her thumb and with teddy.
We snuggle, we three. Every night he is there, he asks me to tell him the stories he doesn't remember. So I tell him how I only had a pregnancy test done at my doctor to rule that out, since they thought I couldn't have babies. I tell him how surprised I was when they called to say I was going to have him, and how hard I cried.
We laugh when I tell the story of how on my way to the visit where I learned I was pregnant with his brothers, I had a flat tire and had to change it. I was late to the appointment because I was changing a tire.
Then, I came home from what was supposed to be a routine appointment to tell his Daddy we were having a baby.
We laugh and he gets embarrassed when I tell him the girl was planned and we tried and tried for her. "No details MOM! ICK!" he giggles.
We talk about our family and the people he knows and doesn't know. I tell him stories of MY grandpa and how wonderful he was. We decide we'll make pancakes on Sunday, like my grandpa used to. He says "It'll be like he's here! That'll be spooky but nice because we can remember him even though I don't know him."
And I think yeah, it will be like that.
To me, it'll just be nice.
Because I do know him.