She puts her hands on my round bump and leans in close, her nose almost touching my belly button.
And she smiles.
Peeper has already begun to bond with her little sister. She asks to see her, brings her toys, asks me to sing her a song, puts the spout of her sippy cup on my belly and gives her hugs. Sometimes she’ll shyly wave.
Some mornings when I lift her out of the crib, her first request is, “Wanna see the baby.” She’ll stand in her jammies with her halo of curls mussed every which way and place her hands on my bump. Her dimples are never as precious as when she shares a smile with her unborn sister.
Lately, her favorite thing is to lick—yes, lick—the baby (well, my belly anyway). It always turns into a tickle fest as I shout, “You’re too weird!” and go after her armpits. Peeper’s infectious giggles reduce us to a laughing heap.
“That baby’s gonna be born soon,” she adds, too. We read a lot of books about becoming a big sister and talk about how Mama and Dada will go to the hospital for the doctor and nurses to help the baby be born. It’s hard to say how much has really sunk in, but she surely understands some of it.
We’re all eagerly awaiting Kiwi’s arrival. Each day that passes makes me a little more uncomfortable and a little more impatient, but I continue to remind myself that this tiny person will come when she’s ready—and not a moment sooner.
In the meantime, it’s wonderful to see Peeper continue to love on her little sister. I can’t wait to see how she’ll react to the new baby and how she’ll grow into her role as big sister.
I may feel enormous and wake Eric with my grunting every time I have to roll over in bed, but I wouldn’t trade these chances to see Peeper interact with in-utero Kiwi for anything—even if my belly is covered in toddler spit.