My fourth child would have been a time traveler.
If I’d had him.
No, I’m pretty certain this is a valid assumption. You see, my other three children are polar opposites. That’s right, three opposites. Three points of a triangle. Pick an example any example, apply it to my children and this is what you get:
I am mother to:
And a carb-ivor (He only eats carbs. It’s a thing)
A son who could not lie to save his life
A son who weighs his options at every venture
And a son who does wrong simply because it’s there
Oh and don’t forget my:
Son who loves flying machines
Son who love wheeled machines
and their brother, the guy who gets motion sick on a slide.
The logical fourth dynamic of this paradigm is time.
Ergo, my unborn fourth child, the temporal pilgrim.
Sometimes I’m sorry we never had baby Z.
(What else do you name a child with extra dimensional powers? Bob?)
I’m sorry because I believe Zee might have been quite a handy guy to have around.
I’d probably never lose my phone. Or if I did, I’d never know it because Zee would just bounce back in time and tell me where I set it down. I’d also not have to worry about a shopping list with Zee at my side. He’d bounce into the future and let me know what we were going to be out of, what would break next week, when to expect a growth spurt…
Maybe, just maybe Zee might even make his way back to the day we decided to start our family and say…
“Hey Mom look! Wine!”
Ah Zee, my son.
He’s my favorite.