Smiley

Zia's emotions (and her sharing thereof) are such a new thing for E and I.  P was a really serious baby.  We had to WORK to get the kid to smile or laugh for the first year of his life.  And he cried when something was wrong (which, thanks to the food allergies, was a LOT, but, well, it was different.).  Zia laughs all. the. time.  I typically know, by sound, if she has found something on the floor that's new because she'll let out a "he-he."  Cracks me up.  Totally like, he-he, sucker mommy missed this scrap of paper...

So she laughs loud and long and lots.  And she also screams and cries and complains, lots ;)  She is just, well, very expressive.  If E is holding her and she is done with him?  Forgettaboutit.  This baby will bitch. him. out.  She looks right at him and yells (shrieks) and looks at me and yeeeeelllllls and will keep yelling and moaning and tossing herself with such sudden and unforgiving drama that (sick, second time around parents that we are) you almost wanna not grab the kid just to see how good of a show she can put on ;)  Not really, but its still pretty impressive :)

And though this noise annoys P, he is getting into playing with her a bit more.  They were hamming around in the living room the other day and he yelled to me, "you're right, Mama, she is fun!"  (He was teasing her with his car, but you gotta start somewhere :))))  He is clear, however, that he doesn't' find her unconditionally appealing.  And I think he has guilt over this, even though we've been really supportive that he doesn't have to think his sister is a slice of golden sunshine.  Walking to the store the other day he explained it to me.

Arms really wide, "This is how amazing my life used to be."
Arms a little less wide.  "And this, this is how amazing my life is now.  With Zia."

His sister had just stolen my sunglasses and deposited them somewhere unknown to me.  He was aghast that she would lose a precious possession (as any possession is precious to P;)

He went on.  "She makes me lose your sunglasses.  She makes me lose time with you.  And she is LOUD.   That's what I don't like about her."  Pause.  "OK, Mama?"

I patted him and said yes, I understood.  We kept walking.

"There was something else.  Something else I don't like about her...  I think there were five things....  Oh!  And she poops in her pants sometimes and her breath smells DISGUSTING."  Pause.  "Ok, Mama?"

More patting and validation.  And then he added his final complaint, the one that broke my heart.

"And now I worry about her, that she'll die or something."

The classic Zen complaint.  Love = attachment = pain.  And he really, really does worry about her.  He climbed over to me in bed the other night and whispered, "Mama!  Zia hasn't moved at all!  I think she might be dead!  Check her!"  Of course, she was sleeping peacefully not an inch away from me, but he'd been monitoring and seen no movement :)  I feel badly that big brother-hood seems to have cast such a heavy shadow of self-inflicted responsibility over the Little Man.  But I guess that's just life.