Third Child

Poor Luke. He's either in his car seat, eating, napping, or playing on the crumb-strewn floor by himself, probably in a corner. I've always heard people talk about the middle child; how the unlucky kid is always neglected, and is constantly drug around from older and younger siblings' events, never getting a chance to participate in anything on his own. For us, it's the youngest child who is overlooked.

This morning, for instance, it was a rush to get the misbehaving girls ready for school. Luke got fed, but not dressed. Same for me, actually. . . but I digress. After we dropped them off, we returned home and I changed clothes to go for a run. Luke sat cheerlessly in the stroller as I enthusiastically told him how we were going to See The World! He looked at me and sighed. Half-way through the short run, I noticed he had fallen asleep. Yet another nap out of his crib. When we reached the front door, I gently lifted him out of his stroller and carried him to the proper napping locale, and he fussed just a little before nodding off to sleep. About an hour later, when I was finishing my shower, he woke up. Yay! Time to watch mom do her hair. I sat him just outside the bathroom with a few toys, and he looked at me like, seriously, Mom? These toys again? Okay, mental note to switch out the doing-my-hair toys.

After that, it was a diaper and outfit change, and back out the door to run some errands. He might have cried when I put him in his car seat. Then, to pick up the girls. He flirted pretty heavily with Kate's teacher, basking in the attention he surely feels he's missing out on. Back into the car seat yet again to go home for lunch. . .aaaand straight into the high chair so I could yell at kindly ask the girls to take their shoes off already while I made lunch. Then the girls went down for their naps and he and I played for a bit before he got fussy and needed a nap of his own.

In a short while, we'll all head to the park, where Luke will sit in his stroller (or maybe I'll be able to hold him? It's always up to the girls, somehow, and whether they can obey or not) while the older siblings play. Someday he'll get his revenge by eating all their Barbies' shoes, I'm sure, but for now, I'm glad he's patient.

Enjoying a little breathing treatment before nap. Apparently decongestant is dangerous for little ones, but albuterol is okay?

First pears. The girls kept fighting over who got to feed him.


6mo old. Over 20lb. One happy, well-fed baby boy.

I am teh cyut.