Oscar was outside in his backyard, playing in his mud kitchen.
All around the garden, yellow daffodils poked up their heads, reaching for the warm spring sunshine.
Oscar was waiting.
He was waiting for Ramona, his baby sister, to come.
Oscar’s mommy and daddy said that Ramona was living in Mommy’s tummy. Soon, Ramona would come out and live with them in their house.
Oscar thought about Ramona living in Mommy’s tummy.
He wondered what that was like.
Was Ramona squished?
Mommy ate a lot of broccoli.
Would Ramona come out with broccoli in her ears and all over her hair?
Daddy said that Ramona would cry a lot.
Oscar cried sometimes, so he understood about crying.
Mommy said, “You will be a good big brother.” “You can show Ramona how to pet Ginsburg gently.”
Oscar was very good at petting Ginsburg.
But Oscar had a question.
“When is Mona coming?” he asked.
“Soon,” said Mommy.
Soon.
Oscar did not like soon. Soon was not today. Soon was not right now. Soon felt like a very long time.
Oscar waited. He waited while he built mud pies. He waited while he watched Ginsburg chase a butterfly. He waited while Mommy rested and Daddy checked his phone.
Still no Ramona.
Oscar felt a little squirmy inside.
What if Ramona didn’t like him? What if she cried all the time? What if Mommy and Daddy were too busy?
Oscar sat very still.
Ginsburg came and rested her head on Oscar’s knee.
Oscar petted her gently. “I will show Mona how to do this,” Oscar said.
Just then—
Mommy called from inside the house. “Oscar! It’s time!”
Everything suddenly felt very fast. Daddy grabbed the bag. Mommy held her tummy. Oscar held Ginsburg’s leash.
“Ramona is coming,” Daddy said.
Not soon.
Now.
Later, after a long wait (a different kind of wait), Daddy came back with a big smile.
“Oscar,” he said softly, “meet your sister.”
Oscar peeked.
Ramona was very small. She did not have broccoli in her hair. She did not look squished.
She did cry a little.
Oscar leaned closer.
“Hi, Mona,” he whispered.
Gently—very gently—Oscar reached out his hand. He touched her tiny fingers.
“They’re so little,” he said.
“Would you like to help me?” Mommy asked. Oscar nodded.
He helped tuck Ramona’s blanket...gently.
Just like with Ginsburg.
Ramona stopped crying.
Oscar smiled.
Waiting had been hard. But now—
Ramona was here.
And Oscar was ready.
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