Hanging Out with Louie and Fred

In the past five years, I have been blessed with becoming an aunt four times over, most recently to a darling boy I will call Fred. (Note: his parents do not call him Fred.) He was born 16 days ago, and his older brother Louie just turned 2, and so I'm visiting and attempting to be useful by cooking, changing diapers, wiping countertops and noses, and gazing lovingly into Fred's tiny quizzical face. Just now my sister's taken Fred in for one of his baby checkups, but she forgot something and momentarily came back, which put poor Louie into a tailspin caused mostly by his being up a large part of the night. I picked Louie up and kissed him and carried him to his bed, where he protested loudly for exactly five seconds and is now, according to the baby monitor, sound asleep. The dog is blissful. All is well.

I miss cuddling small babies. I miss the smell of their hair and that sweet spot on the back of their necks. I miss toddler enthusiasm--how eating grapes can be a cause for clapping and celebration. My children are mostly grownups now. I really enjoy them the way they are now, I wouldn't want them to still be babies, but I'm also really enjoying this brief retreat to a stage I left a long time ago.

On the other hand, I got called Grandma at the pediatrician's earlier this week. Please note, dear universe and especially my own children--I am not nearly ready for that.