Three Is a Magic Number

There have been discussions about whether to create a sibling for our little one, wee though she is. Arguments for a multi-child family include the discouraging of only-child syndrome (read: hellish selfishness) in our bundle of joy, creating a cushion of sorts should, God forbid, anything befall our first-born, and the simple idea that more kids means more joy in a home. (We’re not fools; we know it means more everything.) But we may not go the way of sibling creation. When I was a boy, a Saturday-morning Schoolhouse Rock bit included a song called “Three Is a Magic Number.” Part of it went:

A man and a woman had a little baby.
Yes, they did.
They had three in the family,
And that’s a magic number.

Baby loves to be with her mom, and she loves to be with her dad, but she really loves to be with both of us at the same time. As we sat on the couch with her tonight, she turned her head from mom to dad and back to mom, as though watching a tennis match, and soaked up love at every turn. It is a magic number.