Thank You, Luke

Every night, before Luke goes to bed, he comes hopping into the master bedroom for one last hug and kiss from me. It's a stall tactic, if ever I've seen one, but it's a really sweet stall tactic; one that neither McMoose nor I can resist. And lately, it has become even sweeter because he comes in, gets a hug and kiss from me and then gently climbs up on the bed to hug and kiss his baby brother. Baby brother, for his part, usually turns in his sleep and tries to eat Luke's face.

I'm amazed at how well this little two-year-old is adjusting to the incredible changes in his world over the past two weeks. Suddenly, he's the oldest child instead of the only; he's no longer allowed to play wild games with me (for now); he went from spending the majority of his day with me to barely seeing me at all; he no longer spends the early morning hours cuddled up between me and McMoose; we no longer get to snuggle to sleep at naptime. If I were him, I'd be the grouchiest, most jealous person on the planet.

Instead, he hugs and kisses Weston. He asks if Weston is all right, if he's scared, if he's hungry. He's been testing McMoose a little bit--he is two, after all--but overall, this has been a far easier transition than I expected. And for that, I'm so grateful.