Before I had my second child, one of the anchors of my "pro only child" list was the fact that, if I limited myself the child I already had, I could enjoy the relief of a hard demarcation, a resolute squashing of the lid onto that particular Tupperware container of my life.
(You know you were tired of book and door metaphors.)
Now that I have a second child, and am at liberty to luxuriate in the closure of receptacles, I am, naturally, besieged by regret.
Fun times.
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