No baby yet. She's smaller than Silas was - because of my blood sugar issues - but still a healthy weight, and in good shape in there, so I'm trusting that she is going to stay put as long as she needs to, and not a minute more. Also? Letting go of expectations, as much as possible. And enjoying the fact that I've been ready for Christmas since Halloween, and just trying to ... roll with it.
But that's not what I stopped in to tell you.
I wanted to write about Silas, because if I don't I won't remember, and I don't want to forget, ever. My friend Carrie (and Andrew Peterson? I believe mentioned the same thing on stage last week) has a theory that there's a special room in Heaven where parents will watch and remember all of these little moments of their kids' lives. I hope that's true. Here is one I will watch over and over.
Something happens around 2 1/2 - babies become people, who can suddenly do things like tell you they are hungry and who hurt their feelings. Silas has crossed that threshold, and what I'm discovering about my little boy is his compassion. Asher has spent the last week learning to ride his big boy bike, and Silas is SO into it. He'll stand in the driveway and shout, "You can do it, Ash-uh!" or "Hooray for Ash-uh! You're doing a great job!" completely unsolicited. It is possibly the best thing I've ever seen. Yesterday morning Silas came to me and said, "Asher (always pronounced 'Ash-uh') doesn't like me anymore." I asked if Asher was frustrated; he said yes. I told him his brother always loves him, but maybe he could ask if Asher needed some help. A few minutes later I saw Silas climb off of his tricycle, walk across the yard to his brother, give him a push on his bike (to help him get started), then run back over to his tricycle so that he could ride behind him.
Be still my heart.