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on the bellies of grown-ups, and other observations

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Vivi was watching me put my hair in a ponytail yesterday morning, and while I had my arms raised over my head, she said “Mommy, your tummy is getting small so you will have another baby now.” I’ll let you chew on that one.

An hour or so later, I was driving her to school, and all was quiet in the car except the radio. Out of the blue, Vivi says “I don’t want to be a grown-up.” This statement is a bit easier to understand if you consider the fact that at the time I was listening to the BBC World News instead of the pop music she prefers.

When I was about Vivi’s age, I remember asking my mom to come watch cartoons with me. She politely declined and when pressed further told me she really didn’t like cartoons very much. This admission was a revelation for me. Peeling the layers away, you’ve got the lesson that Mom and Dad might not love everything I love, and then there’s the dawning realization that not everyone adores cartoons. Oh the horror! As a kid, I made the leap that if adults don’t like cartoons, I don’t wanna grow up.

Looking back in the rearview mirror, I recognized that same look of awakening on Vivi’s face. And so begins her Piagetian sociocentristic view of the world. I’ll say it again, our baby is all grows up.

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