Four

At the Children's Museum sometime in August, I was strolling Leo around and responding to a work-related email on my phone, while Owen played happily at the chalkboard, painting with water.  Owen called my name and asked me to look at what he just wrote.  I looked up and saw this:

I was amazed that he knew how to spell or write Leo's name (only three letters, but still...pretty cool, I thought).  But it was also so touching that he chose to write Leo's name instead of his own, that his brother and his brother's name were in his mind.  We have Owen, and we have Leo, and then it's like an extra-amazing bonus (that I forget sometimes since we're still new at this) that they also have each other.  That Leo is and always will be a part of Owen and vice versa.  This was one of those times, and something about that moment made Leo seem more real.

In the first few months of Leo's existence, it felt so new and so different to have him as part of our lives.  Like it was us, but plus one.  I think I've officially crossed some sort of threshold, though, because now when I look at this picture of when we were three, it looks like something's missing:

It's all of a sudden impossible to imagine that Leo didn't exist yet in the moment above.  Or that neither Leo nor Owen existed yet in the moment below:

Anyways, we're four now.  Not just playing-around-look-at-our-new-baby four.  But for-real-this-is-our-family-and-we're-DOING-it-and-a-little-tired-and-a-lot-caffeinated-but-LOVING-it four.