We had been trying to have a third child for some time.
The day I was due to take a home pregnancy test, my husband was called away on business. My two young daughters and I decided if it was positive, we would buy a baby outfit to surprise their father when he got home. The three of us stood in the bathroom eagerly waiting for the result.
When it was negative, my seven-year-old hugged me. ‘Don’t worry, Mummy,’ she said. ‘The next time Daddy goes away, you can try to get pregnant again.’
One evening after dinner, my five-year-old son, Brian, noticed that his mother had gone out. In answer to his questions, I told him, ‘Mum is at a Tupperware party.’
This explanation satisfied him for only a moment. Puzzled, he asked, ‘What’s a Tupperware party, Dad?’
I’ve always given my son honest answers, so I figured a simple explanation would be the best approach. ‘Well, Brian,’ I said, ‘at a Tupperware party, a group of ladies sit around and sell plastic bowls to each other.’
Brian nodded, indicating that he understood. Then he burst into laughter. ‘Come on, Dad,’ he said. ‘What is it really?’
I was telling my three boys the story of the Nativity and how the Wise Men brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh for the infant Jesus.
Clearly giving it a lot of thought, my six-year-old observed, ‘Mum, a Wise Woman would have brought nappies.’
One Saturday, my house-proud mother told my brother and I that we couldn’t go out until we had tidied the spare room. We were desperate to get it done quickly.
Finally, exhausted after what we thought was an excellent job, we said we were finished. Mum came in, ran her fingers along the shelves, and peered under the furniture. Clearly dissatisfied, she turned to my brother and ordered, ‘Go and get me the broom.’
As he handed it to her he asked, ‘Is this for sweeping the floor or are you going somewhere?’
While queueing in a theme park for a hair-raising ride, I heard my two nephews arguing.
‘Aunt Staci’s going with me!’ insisted Yoni.
‘No,’ said his brother. ‘She’s coming with me!’
Flattered at being so popular, I promised Yoni, ‘You and I can go on the merry-go-round.’
‘But I really want you to come on this ride,’ he protested.
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because the more weight there is, the faster it goes.’