Guest Post: P. from What Possessed Me on Waiting for Baby

Any day now - any hour, any minute - the call will come and the wagons will circle. My brother and sister-in-law, in an act of abounding love and staggering impracticality, are about to have a third baby in their tiny New York City apartment. It's been four years since their twins were born, ten and eight years since my eldest nieces came into the world, and we're all waiting with baited breath to meet this new addition to our expanding family.

The twins, however, are not so sure what to think. The adults are trying to pull a fast one - trying to convince them how fun it will be once the baby arrives - but they are wise to our little con. At night they caucus in their bunk beds, scheming and plotting in their private language.
"You're going to be a big brother!" I say to my nephew. "What are you going to do when the baby comes home?"
"Flush it down the terlet," he answers, reasonably.
Right. What big brother wouldn't?

In an atmosphere of anticipation and uncertainty, the twins root around my parents' toy chest for familiar, well loved things. Uncharacteristically, they skip over the shiny plastic gew gaws, pulling out Lamby (my beloved eyeless, partially crippled stuffed sheep) and cradling Ronkey (my cherished eyeless, partially hairless stuffed donkey) instead. They unearth my brother's old train set, my father's tin soldiers, a set of old moldy blocks, a forgotten slide rule. Perhaps it's the comfort of continuity that draws them to these unglamorous, down-at-heel vestiges of our childhood. Three generations of sticky fingers have pawed and cuddled and played with these toys. Now they are tried and tested companions through good times and bad. I like to think that old toys like the ones pictured here (available at the wonderful Topsy Design) have magical powers to soothe, comfort and inspire.

With love, anticipation and thanks,

P. from What Possessed Me

P.S. (From Leigh): What Possessed Me is one of my desert-island blogs. Like if I didn't have food and water and other essentials of life, P.'s gloriously humane and heartbreakingly hilarious insights would keep me going. She's that good.