Having four kids grants you instant access to the exclusive club known as “Wow, That’s a Lot of Kids!”  I couldn’t wait.  I already had more kids than I had hands, so what was one more?  There had been an empty seat at the table for a while, and now would be filled; all would be right with the world.  My baby number four may have been a surprise, but boy  was she wanted—and celebrated! This child, number four, was everybody’s baby.  My neighbor buddies (most with babies neither in the house nor on the horizon) couldn’t wait for our little bundle of joy to arrive.  My other three kids were thrilled, particularly number three who saw the new baby as the end to his days as the youngest child in the family.   And Curt?  Well, he had told me (many times) after number three was born that if we ever had another child, we were selling the big suburban house and moving to a farm.  He grew up as one of four, and he apparently thought that only farmers and crazy people had more than three kids.  As fate would have it, the suburbs won out and I was able to stay in suburbia.  I’m not sure how that would have played out if there had been a number five, but we’ll never know.