Читать книгу The Baby Bond - Lilian Darcy, Lilian Darcy - Страница 7

Dear Reader,

When it comes to making babies, I’m a specialist. I only do the active kind. They can lift their heads the day they’re born. They run at ten months. By a year, they’re climbing the handles of the kitchen drawers as if they were rungs on a ladder. They’re curious, too. Will someone please invent a refrigerator lock that they don’t learn to unfasten within a week? I’m sick of cleaning large puddles of homemade spaghetti sauce off my kitchen floor.

As you can tell, my husband and I are still in the throes of the toddler years at my place. So when you read about babies in my books, you’ll know the memories are still fresh. Far too fresh. I asked my very dear mother-in-law a year or two ago, “When does it get easier?” “It doesn’t,” she said cheerfully. I gulped. Her eldest is forty-five.

Strangely enough, though, the question that haunts me most frequently as I contemplate my manic brood is not, “How do I get out of this?” but “Shall we have another one?”

Sincerely,