Getting His Gloves On.

It's the darnedest thing.

You put them to bed, looking like an angel...

and they wake up...

looking like Mike Tyson.

Who knew?

His Gratitude Knows No (Geopolitical) Bounds.

Every night, before bed, Colin says a prayer. I provide the template ("Heavenly Father, we're grateful for...") and he does the rest. Sometimes, it's sweet. Sometimes, it's jibberish. But it's always funny.

On Saturday night, Colin's prayer went like this:

Heavenly Father, we're grateful for...

• Mama (the woman who nurtures and cuddles him)


• Mom (the woman who lets him jump on the couch like a trampoline)


• a bone that glows in the dark (referring to his glow-in-the-dark skeleton pajamas)


• bones that glow in the dark (again, the pajamas, but how's that for subject-verb agreement?)


• that Mama has 31 years


• Greenland


• Baby Pierce


• Teeth

So, there you have it. In the Wiltbank house, there's a lot to be thankful for. And at least two of us are grateful for teeth (Colin as he uses them; Brad as he preps and fills them). And at least one of us (me) is grateful that Pierce doesn't have any... yet.

Pierce: Quality over Quantity.

I am a youngest child. And, when I had my first child, my mom sent me every baby photo of me. To oldest children, this probably sounds like an onerous task. But not for my mom. Because, remember, I'm the youngest. I think there were about 25 photos, which represented my first five years.*

* Which was totally fine by me because, in reality, these were not my finest five years.

So, I was afraid I would do to Pierce what happens to all subsequent children - that fewer photos would be taken of him than were taken of Colin. And that's probably true. Probably, we do have fewer photos of Pierce than of Colin.

But, woo boy, what Pierce lacks in quantity, he makes up for in quality. Look at this kid!

Oops! We did it again.

Meet Pierce. He arrived safely in May and has been lighting up our lives ever since. He's sweet and funny and, in an effort to stay competitive, just as chubby as his brother. His hobbies include eating, sitting up, rolling over, blowing spit bubbles, and coo-ing. His dislikes include being alone and the crib.

Colin likes to speak on Pierce's behalf, but the ventriloquist act is pretty limited. It usually goes something like this:

Me: "Colin, what does Pierce say?"

Colin: "I want some milk, Mom."

How is Colin handling being a big brother? Here's the scene from last night. I asked Colin if he wanted another little brother or little sister. Colin firmly, emphatically, and loudly rejected my offer. I asked him why he was was so against another sibling, and he said, "Coco doesn't want another brother. Coco wants Pierce!" So, there it is: all three of us really like having Pierce around. Welcome to the team, Pierce!