You Shouldn’t Procreate.

Because my kids will out-awesome yours.

Granted, I have a bit of a skewed opinion. And, okay, you can procreate (um, I give you permission?), because who will my kids marry and, in turn, create even more awesome offspring?

I just had to document the following tidbit as further proof that my son a). adores his baby sister – I will use it to blackmail him later on in life, and b). is ah-maz-ing.

So today, after he got back from summer camp, I was giving him a bath, and Bean was hanging out in her bouncy seat in the bathroom, chillin’. And, well, mostly sleeping. At one point, Bug looked at her over the rim of the tub and said, “she’s so cute.”

“Yep,” I replied absentmindedly, because the kid needed a good scrubbing.

Then he said, in mid-scrub, “Bean makes the whole world shine.”

I’m not gonna lie, I got a lump in my throat. Then I made him repeat it, because I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly, and it was pure poetry. I freaking love that kid.

I am amazed by my little boy. I don’t think I liked my siblings until I was old enough to know better. (Like, last year.) (Just kidding.) Much less unabashedly adored them the way Bug adores Bean. He is truly tremendous, and I want to be just like him when I grow up.

Bean is beautiful, yes, and she smiles half a second before she blows out her diaper, and her chin trembles when she cries, and she’ll stare at you like you’re holding the moon. But she’s still new, and her personality is still an evolving mystery, and she doesn’t do much between eating and sleeping, so it’s like a strange mixture of miracle and magic that we can all be so head-over-heels for her.

I’m holding her now, as she sleeps (with the two extra arms that come with labor and delivery), and even though she can’t say “I love you” back, or can’t laugh when I tickle her, or stay awake for more than an hour or so at a time, I am obsessed with this tiny twenty-five-day-old being.

I love listening to her breathe. I love the way her forehead wrinkles when she’s staring at you. I love the way her mouth is shaped like an archer’s bow, and how red she gets when she cries. I love watching her get drowsy as she nurses, her eyes drooping in perfect correspondence to how full her belly gets. I love how her little hands clutch my shirt in her sleep, like she won’t let go, even unconsciously.

I love that holding her is pure bliss.

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