For Carter the excitement of Winnie’s birth wore off quickly. She was no longer a creature of lore inside my stomach, a growing promise of a potential playmate and lifelong friend. She came out of my belly but could not watch “Jungle Book” or play kick — she could not even lift her own head.
She cried. She nursed all the time. Her poop was yellow and weird. In other words, she was a dud.
“Carter, today Winnie told me how much she loves you. She said she could not believe she gets to be YOUR little sister!” I bounced Winnie in my arms, still donning her blue and pink knit cap from the hospital.
Carter grimaced. “Winnie eating?” he asked pointing at her head resting near my chest.
“No, not right now, but she might be hungry soon.” I stroked Carter’s hair and mustered my best Mary Poppins smile on three hours sleep.
“Winnie hungry,” Carter said, pointed at my breast, and walked away.