As we rapidly approach Junior’s first birthday, I find myself wishing for a pause button, especially because I realize that next fall, Future President will start kindergarten and the two brothers, who have become best friends, will no longer get to hang out together all day, every day.
Yesterday in the car, I couldn’t stop laughing because of the conversation I was having with Future President. He had informed me that Sally and Lightning were going to have a wedding party that night, but he would have to take the party outside because he didn’t want the baby to ruin the party. Then he asked me what happens at a wedding party, so I described our wedding and the reception afterward. His only response: “Daddy danced?!?”
Then I asked him if he was going to get married. “Not until I’m 10 or 11,” he said. “I hope my Nanny and PopPop are alive when I get married to a mommy.” It was too cute, there was no way I was going to try to explain the difference between a mommy and a wife.
Future President still carries a stuffed animal with him on the playground. He loves wearing zip up footie pajamas. He dances and shows off for his brother, and they can spend at least 15 minutes making babbling noises at each other, getting noisier and noisier after each mimic. After bed time, I’ll peek into their rooms: Junior is likely in a strange sleeping position, bent in two at the waist, one hand sticking out of the crib rails; Future President might be making shadows on the wall with his flashlight, or reading a Playmobil catalog, and I’ll just stand in the door way watching them, wishing that their innocence and joy last forever.