This post was originally written in November of 2017, and probably never finished because Eldore was born just a few days later. The emotional upheaval did recede with his birth, like I thought it would, and we have enjoyed a lovely nearly-nine-months of having him in our family.
Eldore Rex turned seven months old yesterday.
As I type he is seated on the floor behind me, nestled in the boppy pillow; although when I turn to look at him I find him flung backwards and looking at me (upside down) with an eager expression. He will not sit up for long–not because he can’t, but I think maybe he is not content to–he flings himself at whatever toy is nearby (always better than the one he has in his hand) and ends up on his belly, or on his side, or draped across the pillow backwards like he is right now, and inevitably blowing raspberries.
This post was originally written in 2016, before we moved, before Elvie was born. The boys were 4, 3, and 1. I never finished this post beyond 9:48–I don’t remember why–but of course I never posted it, as it was unfinished. I found this post a couple of weeks ago and enjoyed reading it, even in its unfinished state.
He was five years old and he could barely contain his disappointment as he stood there, barefoot, in the path between the garden rows. One older brother already had his hands in the dirt, and one little brother was busy making sure his sister wasn’t digging any seeds out of the dirt. I was pulling baby tomato plants out and laying them out to check the spacing. I didn’t look up from my work, but I could see his feet, and I could hear his voice. He has asked what reward there will be for helping with planting, and he’s been told by his father there will be none.
He wasn’t happy with that answer.