At almost two months old, he is irresistible.  As I look down at that face, I can’t help myself.  I make silly noises hoping that he responds.  He does more frequently now.  He seems to know my voice—at least he has become familiar with it.  I am the bearer of food, of kisses, the over-squeezing-cuddling-pappa-love.

Last night as I was holding him and Darrow was hovering above us, he looked into my face and then turned to Darrow’s and then back at mine.  It was just another of the small developmental milestones that he keeps hitting.  There are so many—it’s an amazing thing to be a witness to.

When he is hungry he has become more ardent and louder with his cries, exhibits more agitation and certainly feeds with a lot of gusto.  He has a deep voice for a baby.  Sometimes he sounds like an animal—a braying burro, a bleating sheep and sometimes even a squealing squirrel.

He loves his bath.  You put him in the warm water and the legs begin to kick and the arms begin to flail and he snorts and puffs and shakes his head.  Sometimes it seems the stimulation is overwhelming.  And he will play in the water (as long as it is warm) for as long as you keep him there.  Sometimes I put him in the bath just to give him some fun time.  His enthusiasm always draws a crowd of on-lookers.


The dogs have grown accustomed to his squawks.  They lay around exhausted because with stay-at-home-daddy Darrow and the new baby entity that has entered their domain, they are unable to get the uninterrupted day-long naps that they enjoyed when all the humans used to leave the premises for the day.  Even with loud dogs barking, Lucas sleeps peacefully and soundly, so much so that we check on him frequently.  Aside from when he is hungry, there is little that seems to wake him. 

T plays the big brother role well.  He makes little baby noises when he interacts with Lucas.  He gives him long, gentle hugs.  He wants to watch us feed and diaper him.  Every night we bring Lucas to his bedside, so they can say goodnight to each other.  In the beginning, I wondered how it would all fit, the “first born” foster son and the newly adopted infant—would they be brothers?  Sounds like a silly question but in our unique family every situation is new territory.  I don’t really wonder about that anymore. 

Lucas has become a part of the fabric of this family.  You can see it in the way he has settled into our lives—how the dogs have remained interested in how he smells but unfazed by his presence—how T has latched onto him just like any big brother does to the new born addition to a family—how we have begun to settle into our ways of playing with him, of getting him to feed, holding him in our arms, helping him fall asleep.  I still have a hard time believing that he is here to stay.  I’m not sure what I am waiting for.  Maybe in April when the adoption is finalized our little boy will seem just that—our little boy.