Saturday, March 17, 2012


Over the weekend we went to Louisville to visit my sister and her family. Did I mention they’re moving there? Yeah. Come June they will be a quick two-and-a-half hour drive from our house. I know! It’s pretty much the best news ever. Anyway. They were there for a conference so we popped over to see them and spend some time with our nephew Jack. Because even though we’ll be seeing plenty of them very soon, this is the one and only time he’ll be 10 months old.

He’s a cutie pie and it was really fun seeing the cousins all together. Fun and funny. Because seeing Finn with a baby made it so painfully clear that he’s a little brother (and Jack is not…). Little brothers are used to hanging with the big kids so their tolerance for rough and tumble play is through the roof. First babies do not have that advantage.

2nd borns and 1st borns, hanging in a bar...

The weekend went a bit like this:

Finn: “Hi, Jack! I see that you’re crawling! I think I’ll ride you!”

Jack: “Um, Mama?”

Finn: “Go faster horsey!”

Jack: “Do you people see this? He’s ON MY BACK.”

Finn: “Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy…”

Jack: “HELP ME!!!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I guess I just don’t usually see my boys in that light. When I think of Finn, I generally think of this little guy.

Although, I’m more than a huge fan of this little guy as well.

I mean, I know my boys play rough with each other, but it’s rough light at it's worst. They roll around and wrestle a little but there’s no hitting or anything intensely macho like that. They’re definitely more silly than aggressive. Which is exactly how Finn was playing with Jack but the contrast between them made him look like a total bruiser.

Which is exactly what they kept calling him in the ER last night.

“Looks like we’ve got a real bruiser on our hands!”

“I think I can see why this guy's in here!”

“Get back here you little monkey!!!”

I wanted to correct everyone like, “You guys don’t understand, he’s not really like that!” but I was in no position. I was at the hospital waiting for a doctor to stitch up my 19 month old’s forehead. I knew he had gotten hurt innocently enough – he tripped running around the ice cream shop and hit his head on the concrete floor – but I don’t think it mattered. If he looks like a bruiser, and runs around the hospital bandaged and bloody like a bruiser, he must be a bruiser.

If that baby scars, I may not even be able to convince myself anymore.

Happy drugs, happy bruiser baby.

And simply because they’re hilarious, here are a couple videos of Finny on drugs. Enjoy!

video video

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