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“I thought it was perfect.”
“God help me if this is a boy and he acts like you.”
My chuckle made the sheet flutter in front of my mouth. “It’ll be worse if it’s a girl and she acts like me.”
Her eyes bugged. “No! Don’t you put that on our child! They are going to be a saint, they are going to be a saint, they are going to be a saint,” she kept mumbling as she grabbed her plastic sword and a small leather purse thing that wrapped around her waist over her sash.
As we went out the door, I laughed because she was still saying it. She poked me with her sword. But I honestly didn’t care if our child was naughty or a saint; I’d love him or her until the end of time, just as she would.
Or until all the stars fall from the sky.
THE END.
