brothers

The first time I talked to Andrew about the baby it did not go so well. I pointed to my growing belly and said, 'baby!'. And he corrected me. "No, no! Baby!" he said pointing to himself. He pointed at me: "Mommy." and himself: "Baby."

Then little by little he learned to say "baby" when we would ask him what was in my tummy. But it was sort of like learning to say 'thank you' or 'please' or 'good night'. It would just be something he would say because he knew that is what he was suppose to say.

Yesterday while snuggling with Andrew and watching Ratatouille, Sprout woke up and started his afternoon Party Time. Sprout was moving all around contorting and misshaping my belly. Then, Sprout kicked his brother. Andrew looks at my belly, then at me. "Baby kicking!"

He couldn't really understand that.
Right?



And an update:
Andrew is still sick. Monday was 5 loads of yucky laundry. Yesterday was only 1. And today we are on 2. I thought for sure he'd have recovered by this morning, but he spent a few hours laying on the couch. Without the television on. Just laying there. If you know my kid, you know he is in constant motion. In my better moments, I say he has lots of Joie de Vivre. In my other moments I think he's nuts. So laying on the couch without Charlie Brown or Veggie Tales engaging him means one thing: still sick.

And, I can't deny it. I love it when he is sick. I know, I know, you are tempted to call Social Services. But when he is sick his Joie de Vivre becomes Amore de Mommy. Man have I received lots of hugs. Lots.

And, well, I sort of absolutely love lots of hugs.