“Yeah, I decided I only want one kid,” she stated casually as she ate a French fry, sitting in Chick-fil-a. Meanwhile, across from her, I nearly choked on my food.
It was the comment combined with the casualty of the tone. As if she just stated that she would prefer pie instead of cake for her birthday.
Like, “okay, plenty of time to change the plans. I haven’t even ordered the cake yet.”
More like I had already named our two adopted children and planned what foreign languages they would learn.
And also what musical instruments they would be required to try along with at least one sport.
“But, I had just decided I want two children...”