Does this mean I have to share my toys?

By now, most of you have heard the “joyous” news. My days of being an only child are numbered. I’m going to have a little brother or sister. A couple of weeks ago, Mom and Dad sat me down to have a talk with me. No, not THAT talk, but regardless, I walked away from this one just as shaken.

What did this “talk” consist of? Well, I was playing with my toys after getting home from daycare when Mom and Dad called me over to the couch. Dad pulled me onto his lap, and they then pointed to Mom’s belly and said, “Guess what, Eliza! There’s a baby in there! You’re going to be a big sister!” Unimpressed, I wriggled out of Dad’s grip and went back to my blocks.

But as I sat there, it slowly dawned on me – I’m being replaced! My parents are tired of me, so they’re trading me in for a newer model. Tell me the truth, Mom and Dad! I know you’ve never forgiven me for that time I pooped in the bathtub. Or for when I threw up in Dad’s eye.

[Editor’s note: This couldn’t be further from the truth. We’re having another baby because the first one has been so much fun that we decided we wanted more. Then again, having a baby puke in your eye isn’t that great.]

Seeing as speaking in complete sentences isn’t exactly my forte yet, there’s nothing I can do to get them to reconsider, so I guess I’m going to be forced to deal with this. But on the bright side, soon I’ll have somebody to blame when food gets thrown on the floor, not to mention someone to torment mercilessly.

Easy target.

Whether I like it or not, this new little bundle of joy is due to ruin my life join the family on Sept. 20. If you’ll recall, I was considerate enough to be born on my exact due date. We’ll see if this little usurper will be as polite as I was.

[Final editor’s note: Eliza is actually quite excited about the prospect of being a big sister. Or, at least, as excited as she can be about something that’s not food, dancing or fart noises.]