Ten. Twenty. Twenty TWO
Our baby is officially a little boy; he declared it with the same excitement he used to proclaim he is “Twooooo.” To celebrate, we did many of E’s favorite things. We took Sister to school, had pancakes and sausage (“hot dogs!”) for breakfast; cleaned all the things; baked (Who doesn’t love to “stir, stir, whoa!”?); read lots of books; looked for trucks, airplanes, and machines; snuggled; swung on the swings with Sister; had black beans for dinner; stayed up late and ate ice cream. We even turned E’s crib into a big boy bed, hoping it would help take us back to his rockstar sleeper days - always a solid 12 hours. I wrote this while on hour two of holding E so he won’t scream and potentially wake up his sister, so the bed plan didn’t work. (He keeps reminding me it’s dark out, and I tell him it’s because it’s 2am). I wishfully thought he’d show us some gratitude for his birthday present — his very own vacuum — by allow us one night of u...