Tiny violin.
Previously I wrote about how Will is lacking the things his brother got -- cafe visits, swim lessons, stroller rides on city streets. And it sounded like I was feeling typical motherly guilt for not giving him the perks Mr. Firsborn had.

But I know Will is happy. In fact, he is less needy than Charlie was and is now, and often pushes me away to play near the big kids. He loves to help open the front door for them (while being held by me) and to wave out the window at them. He sits in his clip-on chair at the toddler table and eats with them, imitating their noises. When they color, he stabs paper with his crayon.

So it is not Will I am sad for, but myself. (Waaa, I know. My blog.) When I let myself really think of it, I am regretful that I didn't savor all his baby moments -- or even half of them -- as I did his brother's. When I did savor a moment, it was cut short by a screaming kid or my realization that I needed to start lunch or the smell of a nasty diaper. There are millions of cute things he did that I know I missed -- though I'm not sure what they were. Cuz I missed them.

Which is why every day this month, I am going to savor at least one baby moment.

The end of babyhood, part 3.
When Will was a baby, I would sing "one little, two little, three little baby boys" while bouncing him on my hip to the rhythm, and then put him down to sleep. But I stopped doing it awhile back because every time I started to sing, he would shake his head no.

Today I went to put him down for his nap, and as I stood in front of his crib, he started to bend and then straighten his knees, causing his body to bounce up and down, while saying "ahhhhh." I realized he was asking me to sing for him, so I did. Every time I stopped, he bounced and said "ahhh" for me again, and he got a good 5 minutes of singing. When I finally put him down, he cried like his little heart was broken. Ten seconds later, he was out cold.