A couple of months ago, my little brother moved back to our state to take a job after graduating from BYU. He has been needing to change his insurance to something instate, so he discussed it with Sean today. Everything looked good (read: Sean could save him money–they apparently pay that gecko well for his acting prowess), and Drew happened to be hanging out next door, so Sean put together the paperwork for Drew to sign while he was around.
After signing the paperwork, Drew asked to hold E~, whom he had apparently forgotten he had already met–a couple of times (this is the same brother who, when he came home for Christmas, looked at me and said, “You’re pregnant???”–I was seven months along at that point and, yes, I had told him before then). So anyhow, as he was snuggling my wonderful son, he was telling me how he and his wife want to have another child soon.
With a wistful look in his eye, he told me how much he wants a son (they have a daughter). He looked around the room at my four little boys and said, “What do I need to rub to get one of those?”
Shortly after I busted into hysterical laughter, he sheepishly said, “Oh, wait. Just forget that I ever said that.”
After Drew left, Sean and I went on a walk with the kids. At one point, we stopped to talk to a neighbor, and the older two finished going home on their own (we have no traffic on our street). As we finished walking home, I was telling Sean how Drew, to his credit, was commenting to me about how moms don’t get nearly enough credit for all that they do.
“The kids give you your recognition,” Sean told me.
“Uh, the kids rarely tell me how ridiculously grateful they are for all that I do,” I responded.
“No,” he said, “I mean when other people see the kids and how they act, that gives you your recognition.”
“Just so we’re clear, are you talking about the kids who are now riding a piano dolly down the street?” I asked.
“Technically,” he responded, “it is a furniture dolly.”
Uh huh. Either way, I don’t think that that is the type of recognition I’m looking for.