Eight: Katja
Kurti peered over the edge of the cot at his sister. "She sleeps a
lot," he whispered. "Is she sick?"
"No," whispered Papa. "Babies need a lot of sleep, it's how they grow
so fast."
"Oh." He stared at her some more. "What's her name?"
"Katja Wagner."
"That's it?" Kurti looked at his father. "Why doesn't she have a
middle name?"
"She'll get one when she's older. When she is confirmed."
"Have *I* had that?"
"Not yet."
"So howcome I have a middle name?"
Papa chuckled and patted his head. "We made a lot of promises to Saint
Ignatious of the Mountains," he said. "So we had to give you his name."
"Oh." Kurti went back to staring at his sister. "When's her fur gonna
grow in?"
"Katja won't have fur, love. She has a different mother and father to
you, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah." He watched Katja's tiny fist escape from her swaddling.
"Five fingers," he said. "Just like you and Mama."
"...mmmmmmmmmm..." said Katja, opening her eyes. "...aaaaaaaaa..."
Kurti clamped his hands over his mouth with a tiny gasp. "Oh no..."
"Hello, love," Papa cooed. "Are you hungry or wet, hm?"
"Wwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhaaaaaaaaa!" Katja
thrashed her little fists.
"Sounds hungry," said Mama, and picked Katja up. "But a change
wouldn't hurt either, no?"
Kurti watched in fascination as Katja got unwrapped and undressed.
"Hey," he said. "She hasn't got a tail."
"Neither have we," said Mama.
"She hasn't got a weewee!" Kurti observed. "What happened to it?"
"Girls don't have them, love," said Papa. "That's the way we're *all*
made."
Katja got changed and dressed and Mama fed her. Kurti watched the
entire process with horrified fascination.
"Doesn't it hurt when she bites you?" asked Kurti.
"She isn't biting, she's suckling," said Mama. "And it hurts a little,
but I don't mind."
"Why?"
"Because I love her. Just like I love you."
"But you don't have to do that for *me*," he argued. "I can feed
myself."
"Yes," said Papa. "But when you were this little, Mama fed you
*exactly* like that."
"Well," allowed Mama. "You *were* a little bigger than Katja when we
found you, but it's all the same. You were too young to eat by yourself,
back then."
Kurti didn't believe it. "I can't remember doing *that*," he said.
"Most people don't," said Papa.
Katja fell asleep after Papa burped her, and Kurti watched her sleep
again.
"When can I hold her?" he asked.
"When she's a little older and you can both appreciate it," said Papa.
"Right now, all she wants to do is eat and sleep. When she's old enough
for cuddles, you can cuddle her."
"But you *must* remember to be very careful with her," said Mama.
"Little babies are very fragile, and you don't want to hurt her."
"I know," said Kurti. His sister's hand flexed beside her face.
"Everyone's been telling me."
Mama went back to bed, still tired from having Katja.
"I love you too, Katja," Kurti whispered. "Even though I can't show it
yet."
Kurti peered over the edge of the cot at his sister. "She sleeps a
lot," he whispered. "Is she sick?"
"No," whispered Papa. "Babies need a lot of sleep, it's how they grow
so fast."
"Oh." He stared at her some more. "What's her name?"
"Katja Wagner."
"That's it?" Kurti looked at his father. "Why doesn't she have a
middle name?"
"She'll get one when she's older. When she is confirmed."
"Have *I* had that?"
"Not yet."
"So howcome I have a middle name?"
Papa chuckled and patted his head. "We made a lot of promises to Saint
Ignatious of the Mountains," he said. "So we had to give you his name."
"Oh." Kurti went back to staring at his sister. "When's her fur gonna
grow in?"
"Katja won't have fur, love. She has a different mother and father to
you, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah." He watched Katja's tiny fist escape from her swaddling.
"Five fingers," he said. "Just like you and Mama."
"...mmmmmmmmmm..." said Katja, opening her eyes. "...aaaaaaaaa..."
Kurti clamped his hands over his mouth with a tiny gasp. "Oh no..."
"Hello, love," Papa cooed. "Are you hungry or wet, hm?"
"Wwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhaaaaaaaaa!" Katja
thrashed her little fists.
"Sounds hungry," said Mama, and picked Katja up. "But a change
wouldn't hurt either, no?"
Kurti watched in fascination as Katja got unwrapped and undressed.
"Hey," he said. "She hasn't got a tail."
"Neither have we," said Mama.
"She hasn't got a weewee!" Kurti observed. "What happened to it?"
"Girls don't have them, love," said Papa. "That's the way we're *all*
made."
Katja got changed and dressed and Mama fed her. Kurti watched the
entire process with horrified fascination.
"Doesn't it hurt when she bites you?" asked Kurti.
"She isn't biting, she's suckling," said Mama. "And it hurts a little,
but I don't mind."
"Why?"
"Because I love her. Just like I love you."
"But you don't have to do that for *me*," he argued. "I can feed
myself."
"Yes," said Papa. "But when you were this little, Mama fed you
*exactly* like that."
"Well," allowed Mama. "You *were* a little bigger than Katja when we
found you, but it's all the same. You were too young to eat by yourself,
back then."
Kurti didn't believe it. "I can't remember doing *that*," he said.
"Most people don't," said Papa.
Katja fell asleep after Papa burped her, and Kurti watched her sleep
again.
"When can I hold her?" he asked.
"When she's a little older and you can both appreciate it," said Papa.
"Right now, all she wants to do is eat and sleep. When she's old enough
for cuddles, you can cuddle her."
"But you *must* remember to be very careful with her," said Mama.
"Little babies are very fragile, and you don't want to hurt her."
"I know," said Kurti. His sister's hand flexed beside her face.
"Everyone's been telling me."
Mama went back to bed, still tired from having Katja.
"I love you too, Katja," Kurti whispered. "Even though I can't show it
yet."