Two weeks in, we’re weary and bleary, but at least our son is excited to have a little sister. Some of the time. Mostly, he’s about as excited to see a baby as everyone else is, it’s just that he’s more honest about it. Look, babies are lovely, and there is a certain thrill to meeting them for the first time. Even the first few times. After that, the point is made and the fervour subsides a little. Babies are adorable but they don’t have much range. Fifteen minutes into being handed someone else’s, I might as well be holding a warm, purring sandbag.
My son is excited when his little sister is awake on her mat, moving her arms and legs about like a stranded turtle. He thinks this is funny because, well, it is. I mean, just get up, you stupid baby! But by the time she’s clasped his finger with her whole hand, released it and turned her face inside out to begin crying again, his arms are resolutely by his sides and he’s off to play with his toys by himself.
