"When will Mom come back from the hospital?" I ask my 7-year-old sister. "I don't know Nora. So, can you pls stop asking me?" she says. I look down at the floor, disappointed. Our babysitter comes over to us with her phone in her hand, she was talking in the other room, wasn't she? " Girls, I just talked with your dad and told me to dress you two up," she says in a hurried voice. "Why?" Nova asks. "It's kind of complicated. I will tell you on the way there."
~ 10 minutes later~
Our babysitter goes home while we go to the hospital. On the way there, our Dad tells us something I was honestly not expecting to hear: We are getting a baby brother. My sister was hopping up and down in the car, excited to meet our baby brother. While I thought we were getting one of my doll's legs fixed. I was also pleased because my parents finally listened to me and took the doll to the hospital. But I had a feeling in my gut that my theory was wrong. Because why would my sister, who hates dolls, be excited about mine getting repaired? That just didn't make sense.
While I was racking my brain over here, we arrived at the hospital. My Dad held my hand all the way to the second floor. And when my Dad let go of my hand, I came to my senses. We were standing in front of a white door. When my Dad opened it, we went in. The whole room was white. My Mom was lying on a bed in one of the corners of the room. Beside the bed was an even smaller bed. Or is it a bed even?