I often joke that my younger brothers were my first children, because I love them so much and have since they were babies. My earliest memory is 20 months old when my mom brought Joseph home from the hospital. I remember running through our house, away from my grandmother, outside to the car, pulling my mom down to my level and ripping off the blankets to see his little shape. I had to see him. When Daniel came along, I had a lot of freedom holding him. At nap time I would go to the floor above his room and stomp around to wake him up from his nap so I could play with him. Now, I see that same love in the older children. Burl and Lark have the same age gap as my brother and me. I had so many more freedoms than Burl has with Lark, so I've resolved to bring him into more of the care taking. Today, he got Lark out of his crib, set him on the changing pad, changed his diaper, walked him upstairs, wrapped Lark in Burl's bed, and read him books.
He was very careful and very attentive. I laughed when he said in his sweet voice, "I hope that he doesn't feel like he's being tortured."
Besides the notoriously hard snaps that never line up, he did great.
His confidence was high, and he was eager to tackle baby #2. With Fern's distractions, Burl got the job done. Even though I know this kind of help won't last, his attentiveness and care were endearing.