My Andrew

Finally, an entry about the boy who started this whole ballgame. My Andrew. My wonderful, mischievous, sweet, considerate, annoying Andrew. He has fallen head-over-heels in love with his little brother. He always wants to hold him, touch him, talk to him. He is reacting quite well to the transition...I figure this time seems easy since we aren't even moving to another state. JUST a new sibling? No change in school, home, environment also? Piece of cake. The only annoying this is he breaks into this baby voice. "Me want go-gurt?" "Me sad." Arghhhh. But this is slowly fading away.

So here are some funny Andrew stories from the last week:

"Not on my watch!" My mother was holding Michael when he started to choke. My mom says, "Oh, no. You're not going to choke on my watch, Mister. Your mother won't let me hold you." Andrew very earnestly glances over and says, "The baby choked on your watch??? Were you holding it in his mouth???"

"We need a feeder!" Andrew has decided that my official title is "feeder". As in, "Michael only has one feeder in the house." So if the baby starts to cry (which is very infrequently at this point), he starts yelling through the house, "We need a feeder! Somebody find the feeder!" As a mother nursing every 2-3 hours, nothing makes you feel more like cattle than that call to action.

8 inches Andrew frequently follows me upstairs when I feed Michael. I feed Michael upstairs because latching on is still a bit...um...uncomfortable, and I don't need an 18 month old to juggle at the same time. Andrew LOVES to watch Michael eat. Michael's eyes are often open and Andrew likes to talk to him. Andrew was quietly resting on his dad's pillow across the king side bed and he asked me if Michael could see him. I told him that Michael probably couldn't because he can only see about 8 inches away right now. Andrew runs downstairs and reappears a few moments later with a ruler. We then carefully measured 8 inches from Michael's head and Andrew rearranges the pillows so the baby can see him. Cute, eh?

Protection from predators Okay, so this is unrelated to baby cuteness. Today Andrew farted in the family room. Not an unusual occurrence. But my mom soon smells it (Andrew has HORRIBLE farts...worse than a dog's) and makes a disgusted exclamation. Andrew explains quite seriously, "Memere, my farts stink to protect me from predators. They smell me and decide that they don't want to eat me." I asked him what particular predator was in the room that he was worried about. "I need to practice Mommy."