Brotherly love

Somewhere in the middle of every pregnancy, a switch gets flipped for me.  I go from half-accepting that I'm pregnant to fully embracing the fact that a tiny baby is on the way and omgIwanttoholdthebabyrightnow! 

Thursday night I bought two onesies for, like, $4.  

They were newborn-sized.  Do you know how long it's been since I've bought anything but clothes with a number and then a "T" following said number?  Years, you guys, years.

So, when I pulled the teeny-tiny, baby doll-sized onesies from the dryer Friday morning, my switch flipped.

And now I'm constantly asking: "how can I possibly have to wait 19 more weeks to hold Gavin???"

And then I answer myself by curling up in my bed at 9:30ish and sleeping (with the exception of one bladder awakening) all. night. long.  I wake up refreshed and then say to myself: you can only do that for 19 more weeks.  Then you're a zombie for a year.  Stop rushing his arrival.

Silas is warming up to his little brother.  Yesterday, he jumped on my stomach, and then we had this conversation

Me: "please don't jump on mommy's stomach, Gavin's in there."  

Silas: "Gavin's in there cooking dinner (because someone mentioned to Silas that Gavin's in my belly "cooking").  He's my little brother.  I'm going to bebo him."  

Then he poked my belly button and said, "Bebo!"  

It cracked me up, so he kept doing it and then laughing and laughing. 

I get the impression that's a game we're going to be playing pretty frequently.  Can you imagine how much fun it will be when Gavin starts kicking Silas (i.e., me....probably in the rib cage) every time he gets "beboed"?