• NOT Lemony Snicket

A Series of Unfortunate Discussions.

So, if you have not enjoyed Lemony Snicket's, A Series of Unfortunate Events, on Netflix, you are truly missing out; especially, if you have read the books. Netflix has done a truly wonderful job taking the time to really tell each story and allowing the characters to develop as they do in the books. Now, I'm not going to lie, the stories are a bit depressing, but Neil Patrick Harris, Patrick Warburton, and the children, do a wonderful job of interjecting humor into the stories in just the right places.

Anyhoo, my kids LOVE this show. They have watched the first season over and over again (which has been a much needed break from How to Train Your Dragon). Strangely though (or not, since we are talking about my children) their favorite character is not one of the older kids. Their favorite character is Violet and Klaus's baby sister, Sunny. Sunny does not actually speak, she makes baby sounds which are then subtitled with dialogue.

My daughter has renamed all of her dollies Sunny. William recently named his sock monkey Sunny; which, for a normal kid, may not seem like a big deal, but for a kid with OCD and mild autism, renaming a toy that has had the same name for seven years, is a BIG DEAL. They have played pretend where they are Klaus and Violet and they carry Sunny around on all kinds of adventures.

Now, all of this may seem adorable, and for the most part it is; however, Sunny has started to lead my children down a dark dark path.

Earlier this week as we were watching the show, Abby turns to me and says, "Mommy, you need to have another baby so that we can name it Sunny." **cue music from Psycho shower scene **

*For those of you who don't know me, when I am pregnant, I have morning sickness for nearly my entire pregnancy. I am just not good at the "pregnancy" part of pregnancy. I am a rock star when it comes to extruding the baby out of my body. Hell, I don't even

need drugs. But being fed on by a human parasite for nine months and all of the

hormone fluctuations that go with it...let's just say, it's not pretty. So the very

discussion of pregnancy makes me have flashbacks, and it's not pleasant.

"Well sweetie" I repiled, "Mommy can't have a baby without daddy, so we should probably discuss that with him." MOM WIN! Throw daddy under the bus! Put the ball in his court! Pure maternal genius!

"How do you make a baby anyway?" she asks with her long eyelashes fluttering over her innocent little eyes.

"I'll tell you when you are bigger." I tell her.

"Will you tell me when I am 18?" she asks.

"Yes," I say with all the confidence of a parent who wishes that their child could remain this innocent until they were 18, "I will tell you when you are 18!"

It seemed like the discussion was over, but later this week, she approached her daddy while they were watching the show. Now, you have to understand that my daughter often talks to people as if they are stupid and she is the expert on whatever she is talking about; because, in her mind, she IS the expert and we adults are not operating with all our crayons in the box (if you know what I mean).

"Daddy," she says with an exasperated tone, "Mommy needs to have a baby so that we can name it Sunny. AND for some reason, she says she needs YOU in order to have a baby. So, daddy, can we have a baby and name it Sunny?"

I did not get to see my husbands face because I was too busy running into the bathroom and locking the door so that he could not toss the ball back to me or throw me back under the bus. Whatever he told her seemed to pacify her because she didn't ask me about it for the rest of the night.

The next morning however was a different story.

"Mommy, if we have a baby and name it Sunny, it could share a room with me." she says

"What if Sunny ends up being a boy instead of a girl?" I ask her.

"That's ok. Then it can share a room with Bubby." she replies with infinite wisdom.

"We don't have any baby stuff anymore," I say, "How can we have a baby if we don't have any baby stuff?"

"Mommy, I have lots of baby stuff," she replies, indicating all of her dollies and their stuff, "You can use my baby stuff."

"Uh huh," I reply searchingly, "The baby would be with mommy all the time" I say, "In my lap and on my hip. It would have to sit in the front seat of the grocery cart and sleep in mommy and daddy's room."

This was it, I thought, the deal breaker. My daughter would never give up her cuddles, snuggles, or her VIP grocery cart seat.

"That's ok." She says as she pulls her boots on, "I don't mind."

Now I am flummoxed. I have no other response. My baby, is willing to give up being my that I can have another baby! No matter how short lived this would be, she offered to give up being my baby. I can't even. I almost wept into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich as I packed her lunch.

While I am not going to have another baby, their preoccupation is adorable. It just seemed more real, more visceral because it was an actual real thing that could happen. I mean, it wasn't that long ago that they were asking me for a dragon so that they could fly around and I answered those requests with grace and aplomb. Truthfully, it is only a matter of time until their imaginations move on to other things.


Sonny has led my children down a dark path.

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