"Tommy... Don't ask people that, not even mommy, okay? Say sorry to mommy, come on."

I said to Tommy, our 4 year old son, after he asked you if you were pregnant. You were wearing a tight dress, that made me want to get you pregnant again, those curves that made my eyes widen and my hands inch closer to your body.

'Fuck, don't get worked up, Harry, control yourself' I thought to myself, as I opened the door to our bedroom, where you were curled up in bed, your belly showing its beautiful rolls under the tight fabric of your dress, and your pretty thighs were pressed together.

What happened was that Tommy, had been asking for a sibling for weeks now, and when he saw your perfect chubby belly, in the tight dress, he asked you if you were pregnant, with innocent kid thoughts. Of course, you didn't take it very well, and ran to our bedroom, shutting the door. And I stayed in the living room, trying to explain a 4 year old why asking that wasn't okay.

He finally understood, and came to you in bed, to apologize, you were crying softly, and he wasn't sure if to start.

"C'mon buddy, say sorry to mommy," I patted his back, as I moved him closer to the bed, my free hand squeezing your thigh gently, for support.

"Maybe you'll get a sibling soon, but now, mommy isn't pregnant, so don't ask things like that."