People don't ask me anymore how she's sleeping, or whether she's crawling, yet. "Of course she's doing those things," they think to themselves. "She's a huge, grown up little kid."
I get indignant. "Well, yes. She can do big kid things like crawl up stairs and pull all of the books off the shelf above her head, but she's still just a teeny-tiny baby. I have a four year old. She is my big kid. Louise is my baby."
Don't mistake it. My second child, she was born just a few days ago, I think. Or maybe weeks. There is no way she's ten and a half months old and eating Cheerios and saying, "Hiiiiiii!" in a big voice while she waves at me. She's only a baby, a delicious yummy baby and it can't be possible that she laughs out loud when I eat her belly and toes. It's just not possible that she spits peas and green beans all over me because she doesn't like them. Babies only spit things all over you because they've just discovered a fun trick... not because they're so big and so much smarter than you, that they know that if they blast you with a fine spray of vegetables, you'll give in and take them away.
It just isn't right. The last thing I remembered, I had two children and one of them was only a sleepy little do-nothing baby. I was here the whole time, and still, I feel like time has pulled a trick on me and stolen my tiny infant and replaced her with a gorgeous, chubby, big girl.
She actually plays with her sister. I mean, they sit together and Scouty does funny things and Louise laughs and laughs. She squeals when Scouty hugs her and shouts out loud in surprise when Scouty does a puppet show. They no longer seem like two separate creatures without anything in common, like a baby and a preschooler. They are just two sisters who love each other. They are patient with one another. They smile when they see one another in the morning. They share snacks and communicate in their distinct and funny ways, bored in the back seat of the car.
I have two, full-blown children now.
If I wasn't so sure I was done having kids I would be getting a little weird and weepy about this. I would be feeling like, "Noooooooo! My kids are growing too fast and I can't keep up with them." I would also be a little bit like, "I want another baby."
But, I'm not being like that, am I?