Little, itty-bitty, baby Jack is now a whopping 25 pounds, 33 inches, and just hit the year and a half mark.
Andres says, “that ol’ fart.”
I say, “Nobody’s allowed to tell me my baby is getting big. Hold your tongues.”
Max puts his fingers in his mouth and tries to hold his tongue while giggling.
Jack says thank you without reminding. Just last night his runny nose made sleeping hard, so I scooted his stuffed animal next to him. His elbow crooked around it instantly and his miserable voice eeked out, “tank you,” Then, in case I didn’t know what it was for, “monkey.”
Jack says, “yeah.” Following a phase of No to the World, he takes his time before answering a question. He pauses a good one Mississippi, two Mississippi. After carefully considering my question, his smile lights and his voice lilts with delight, “Yeah.”
Jack tells Max, “No jump!” when Max is about to jump in his crib. Jack says, “No dump!” as Max drops his books on the floor. Sometimes the two of them sound like two old men bickering loudly on a street corner. Andres and I watch with wonder, humor, horror.
Jack says, “I love, I love, I love.”
I add, “I love mama.”
Jack says, “I love, I love, I love…mommy, dada.”
I cry and say, “I love those little boys sooo much. I can’t believe how lucky we are.”
Andres says, “Again? Are you going to say that everyday?”
I think, I hope so.
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