The moon was full as I stumbled along the path, following a pair of footprints; one set a man's, the other my daughters impossibly tiny feet. The way became wetter as I neared the small lake and just as I reached the shore, the mans prints became cloven as they disappeared into the black water.
Something hard had hit my cheek, sticking there- I brushed it away in disgust, looking down at the back of my hand I saw that it was one of Fable’s teeth. Somewhere in the room I heard a low, guttural moan only to realize it was coming from me.
Yup. I was almost 39 when Nick was born, and the energy difference between that experience and when my first was born at almost 27 was marked. My big kids were a great help--thank God they were happy about getting a new little brother--but I don't think it's fair to rely upon older kids to help raise the youngers, and that's what would happen. Let them have (or not have) kids of their own in their own time, and be able to go into that situation without long-time resentment, right?