My sister-in-law had a new baby on Friday (no, not me, you can all breathe again). Yesterday we took the kids up to the hospital to meet their new, and ninth, boy cousin (they only have one girl cousin). Naomi created her own gift-bag from construction paper and scotch tape, then decorated it with her own stickers. It was a beautiful bag, but when we placed the baby gifts inside we discovered that scotch tape doesn't bond too well with the fuzz on the construction paper. I advised her to carry it by the bottom, and off we marched to the maternity ward.
The girls were spellbound by little Aiden's tiny eyes and tiny squawks. Toby was spell-bound by the bathroom faucet, the rolling stool, and the glowing nurse call-light; but that little baby-thing was OK too. He was quick to label the body parts he recognized on Aiden, poking Aiden's nose and his eye and tugging on his ear, "Eeee-arrrrr!" When Aiden cried in protest and I scolded him, Toby melted and sought to reconcile with his cousin by hugging him long and hard. Matt distracted Toby while each girl took her turn holding her tiniest cousin. They glowed with pride, and I have to admit that holding a tiny baby again brought strange, familiar feelings back for me. I tried to banish them, but they persisted. "Stop," I told myself, "you know what these things bring: painfully delirious nights, fast-paced agitated days...warm bundles, sweet smells...nasty smells, more laundry...tiny hiccups, sleepy smiles..." Then, with Toby attempting to break into a tub of post-delivery witch-hazel wipes, and the girls up past their bedtime, I returned the deceitful little bundle to his rightful owner and led my over-grown bundles back to the parking garage.
Oh, they start off so innocent, then you bring them home from the hospital. I'm not falling for that again, no way...but he was awfully sweet.