Actually, We Have Four Kids

AJ checks out T Junior at four days old.

We gave up on having children two years ago; surrendered the child-bearing flag to God's plan.

If someone asked whether we were going to have kids, I'd answer with a smile: "Nah, we're just gonna be crazy dog people."

And then I got pregnant.

As I got closer to my due date, we decided we'd better try to get our three boxers, Annie, AJ and Lucy, ready.

We drove down the street to the Goodwill store to look for a doll. We sifted through the worn stuffed animals, naked Barbies and scruffy babies with our finger tips, occasionally holding up an old dolly by the toes, like it was a slimy fish.

We settled on one that we decided would look real enough to a dog, but that wasn't too ratty to ride in the car with us. She had a soft cloth body, but her legs and arms from the knees and elbows down were hard. Her once-shiny plastic face was dulled from life and had dirt smeared on it like war paint. She needed a hot oil treatment, but her yellow hair wasn't knotted. We took her home.

I didn't want to, but I submerged her in the washing machine. I had to get rid of the discount store stench. The whole point was to make her smell like a real baby, not old clothes and shoes.

After she air-dried, Mr. T and I took her up to the freshly painted and furnished nursery.

It was April and the cool spring sun set the light mood through two large east-facing windows. It was quiet in there. Eerie. Almost like we'd stepped into the pages of a magazine and were standing inside a room that had never been lived in before even though we knew that only a couple of months ago it was filled with humming computers, and cluttered with papers and books.

But then the dogs came in and made their noises, shaking and flapping their lips, spraying snot out of their noses as they scanned the room with their short snouts.

I found a couple of newborn Pampers on a shelf in T Junior's future closet, and I took one out. It was soft and tiny with yellow Velcro fasteners. We set the doll on the dresser's changing pad, slid the diaper under her and Mr. T shot some talcum in there like Emeril Lagasse with a powdered sugar shaker. Next, we swaddled our fake little child with a thick yellow flannel blanket from Mr. T's mother.

Our three brown dogs hung out below, sniffing the air.

Mr. T cradled the faux baby and swung her low so they could check her out. Annie nudged the bundle with her nose as if she was on to us, as if she knew it wouldn't move when touched.

"That's the bay-bee," we cooed.

Then, we layed her in the crib and left the room. We rarely held her after that. She never cried. Sometimes, if we remembered she was upstairs in the nursery, we might say, "Annie. Where's the bay-bee?" and our oldest would run to the door and stand there or, if the room was open, she would sit next to the crib.

Before we decided to own boxers, we did our homework and knew they have a good reputation around children. We didn't know how ours would be, though, since they had only been around kids a few times, and never near a baby.

When T Junior came home from the hospital, they were curious about him. AJ would stand a foot away and get on the tippy-toes of his paws, stretching his neck out until his face was just close enough to smell this new addition. Annie sat and watched from a distance like she knew to give the new parents some space. Lucy, the baby up to that point, didn't seem to notice anything different.

Now that T Junior can go wherever his little hands and chubby knees will take him, and now that he can get a tiny fist full of fur and hold their noses up to his, or catch an ear or an eye or a lip, we are impressed.

Annie, who has had puppies, is the most tolerant. T Junior can do whatever he wants to her. AJ recently tried to get the baby's attention using the classic doggy "play pose." I sensed canine disappointment when the human didn't bite.

A few days ago, T Junior was pushing board books around on the living room carpet -- one of his favorite activities. I wasn't paying close attention until I heard thumping. I looked in the noise's direction to see what Mr. Busy Pants was up to.

Lucy was sprawled on the floor, her legs out behind her. She was awake, but holding still while T Junior picked up her back left paw and dropped it...repeatedly.

"Good girl, Lucy," I said with a grin.

I'm so glad all my kids get along.

T Junior makes reflections on the wall while AJ (left)
and Lucy chase them. Top photo: T Junior gives
Annie some love.