It's barely more than that anyway, though, because I'm far more concerned with Jake and his toddler bed. We moved him into it only a few nights ago, and he has seemed like a different person ever since. It could be the sleep deprivation. But I think it's just one of those time lapses that happen with children sometimes. You know when you see people after a long absence and they seem shocked at how your children have changed? To you, the change happened so gradually that you hadn't really noticed until it was pointed out. But every now and then, even though you see them every single morning, day, and night, you look at your child and think, "You're different today." It happened with John Michael when he was about this age, and I remember telling Mom, "He's changing so much, I feel I have to re-earn his affection. It's like he just moved in." With Jake it started the day I poured the last of his infancy out of the almost empty whole milk container. A nutritionist told me once to switch them to lower-fat milk when they turned two, and I marked that last droplet of whole milk as faithfully as I marked his "first curl". Which brings me to the next dramatic change. We cut off his curls. Why do I feel like an accomplice in a crime when I write that? Anyway, the 2% milk, the dead, slightly creepy inch or so of curls in the ceramic box (hair really is kind of gross once it's removed from the head), and the toddler bed - and suddenly it's like a whole new kid moved in. He's tucked into the bed right now. He says good night rather tragically, so I think about him almost obsessively for the next couple of hours after tucking him in. So proud of him for settling in even though by his drama you would think we had laid him on a bare sheet of cardboard. So sad that he is growing up. So exhausted from spending a day with a 2-year-old, and so anxious to see him again in the morning.
What was I supposed to be thinking about? Oh yea, the quite possibly historical presidency of the United States. Whatever.