Out of the Mouths of Babes

My dear almost-four-year-old was rubbing and loving on my belly the other night (and no, I shouldn't be evidently pregnant at 13 weeks, but hey, it's number 3) and said, "I love you baby." Very sweet. So then he goes on to say that he's glad I am the baby's mommy. Side note here: This is a big deal. When Ella was born, Owen completely denied that we were her parents. Rather, her parents were "at work" and she was just staying with us forever. But I was not Ella's mommy and my husband was not Ella's daddy. Only very recently has he admitted that we are indeed her parents. So this revelation of his prompts me to verify that I am indeed the mommy of Owen, Ella, and baby number 3. I am. And Daddy is Owen's daddy. "Is Daddy Ella's daddy, too?" Owen: No. "Is Daddy this baby's daddy?" Owen: No. "Who is?" Owen: I don't know. So there it is. Out of the mouth of my prophetic son. Sorry, husband!