On the eve of our latest arrival, I have been spending the day with my #1 boy. It couldn't have been a better day so far. Ruary and I worked together on Milo's room, dusting the changing table with Swiffers, putting blankets away (that he fetched for me from various places, what a good man) and hanging artwork, not only in Milo's room, but also in his. A few weeks ago, he created these four little canvases for his own room, and he couldn't be any prouder of his work. And the fact that he has his very own paintbrush (no way he is going to use mine, at least not until he understands how to clean a brush).

I am having a hard time thinking that he could possibly feel slighted in any way. I know everyone insists that love only multiplies, but I want Ruary to forever know that I think he is the most amazing creature I have ever met. He changes every day, changing into a person that I want to know. This is hard. Tonight, we drop him off at Grandma and Grandpa's house to stay the night, because getting a sleep-loving toddler up at 4 am is not on my list of kind deeds. Wish us luck in dealing with tomorrow's surgery, but also wish this sentimental, emotional wreck the ability to get through this evening without dissolving into a puddle.