When Steve and Marcy Wallinger were told that their son Raymond was stillborn, it was a sad moment – for about thirty seconds. At that point Steve said to Marcy, “Hey, wait. Let’s keep him and be grateful. This kid is going to be so much less work than the one we already have.”
Marcy agreed. “You know, you have a point. I love our two-year-old, but my god, the complete domination of your life… the potty-training and tantrums, ugh.”
Steve nodded. “Exactly. With Raymond, we’ll never hear a peep out of him. We can take him anywhere! There’ll be way fewer stinky diapers. Sure, the decomposition odor might be bothersome, but we’ll just keep spraying him with room deodorizer. We’ll also have to be extra careful that the dog doesn’t eat him.”
Marcy continued excitedly. “No more asking ourselves, ‘Is he gaining enough weight? Are his language skills progressing properly? Does he look like you or me?’ Right now he looks like you right after the chemo gave you that dreadful ashen complexion. Like father like son!”
The Wallingers threw Raymond in a suitcase and headed home. After tucking him in for the night in an unused dresser drawer, they posted pictures of their new arrival.
“I get it,” commented a mother of seven. “I’ve been exhausted for the last twelve years. I’m jealous they got a dead one. Kind of wondering if I could still make that happen for one or two of mine.”
by Holly Love