Moms know this trick: a good life

I “I’m having a little sister.” I look up from my book. On the M13 towards Bornholmer Straße, a little boy with a green bobble hat sits opposite me and beams at me. He’s maybe three or four years old.

“Soon I’ll be a big brother,” he says. “She just needs to hatch.” “Congratulations,” I say. He taps his mother’s stomach, who is sitting next to him. “I was in there once too. I swept everything out properly before I went out. So that my sister doesn’t have to live in a mess. I’m a good tidyer.” He pauses briefly. Then he says seriously: “It’s really nice and muggy in mommy’s tummy, but…”

“But what?” I ask. “There are no toys.” Oh. He’s right about that. I’ve never thought about that before. “That’s why I asked Mom if she couldn’t swallow Sensei Wu.” “Sensei Wu?” “That’s his favorite Lego figure from Ninjago,” the mother joins in the conversation. “So that your sister has something to play with?” I ask the boy.

“Exactly.” “And?” “Mom said no.” Strangely, he doesn’t look disappointed at all. I look at mother. “I suggested something else to him,” she says. “What?” I ask curiously. “Something good,” says the boy. “Gummy bears,” says the mother. “Eleven pieces. Unchewed. A whole football team.”

“And all in green. Green is my favorite color.” The boy points to his hat. “I picked them out of the bag one by one.” He looks at me satisfied. “They also don’t have any sharp edges that could hurt you.” “Great idea,” I say. “But what if your sister gets hungry for something sweet?”

“I thought about that,” says the mother. “She sends replacement players every day,” says the boy. “A lot of them. And in all kinds of colors.” “Better safe than sorry,” says the mother. The two of them look at me and are grinning. “You should be a little sister,” I say. “Not yet in the world and already such a good life.”