Owen is spending the weekend with his grandparents, just because they requested the pleasure of his company. So, Paul and I are spending the weekend with Joel, and getting a taste of what life would be like if he was our firstborn.
It would be peaceful. We've both showered by 8:30 AM. Paul's painting the trim in the living room. I've read the paper--actually read it as opposed to skimming the headlines and reading Caroline Hax. I sat in a chair and sang songs to Joel for at least thirty minutes. I learned that a great way to make him laugh is to say, "Risotto!" Hil-larious. Later today, I'm getting a massage with a girlfriend.
Joel and I went on a walk in the neighborhood, something that's more challenging when Owen's around, because in addition to holding O's hand and hoisting Joel around in the Baby Bjorn, Owen expects me carry all sorts of collected treasures----sweet gum balls, special leaves, rocks, twigs, acorns, more special leaves. I also have to keep up with his philosophical questions---"What are you talking for?" "What's that?" "Where are we going, Mama?" It's only a matter of time before he feels the need to be carried, something that isn't happening.
So, just 15 lbs of baby was a rare treat. I hear my 15 lbs crying upstairs, so I take my leave of you...