Colin Jacob is almost 4 and a half. He is smart and funny and filled with life. He loves any movie about superheros. He builds amazing creations out of legos and string and bits and bobs (just like his father). He slept the whole night last night in underwear and stayed totally dry. He loves the water but cannot yet swim. I call him Bubs, and Buddy B and Birdie, my little bird. He eats only certain foods: miso soup with tofu and rice, peanut butter and honey sandwhiches, cereal. He loves his baby brother and will bring him toys to play with if he is crying, will bring me diapers when I need them, will kiss him and whisper: "I gotcha, I gotcha". He will not drink milk unless it has been laced with chocolate. He can count to 20 and recognize the letters of his name. He sings songs about God that make my heart soar. He is, in a word, marvelous.
Ezekiel Ryan is less easy now that he can army crawl and wants to eat everything he sees on the ground. We contain him for short bursts in this brightly colored plastic monstrosity that he loves and so we give it a place of honor in the middle of the living room. He loves avocado but not enough to stop nursing all the time. I call him baby, and Z and Tiny and Buggy, my little bug. He babbles and coos to himself non-stop, including the early "mamamamaaa" that makes my heart smile, though I know it is just noise. Precious noise. He loves chewing on fabric, we put him to bed and he curls around his blanket, wrapping his thumb in the cloth and sucking. e put him to bed awake and 7 minutes later he is asleep, my mind reels that it is that easy. He adores his big brother, giggles and grins whenever Colin comes in his line of vision. He is, in a word, lovely.
I am, in a phrase, the luckiest.
