At least he’s not shoving a car into her mouth

For several days I tried to stage this photo. I wanted them to lay down beside each other on the blanket as a size comparison. It didn’t work.

It actually happened once naturally. She was on her blanket and David got on the floor beside her, but by the time I got the camera it was over.

The book sort of ruins the effect, but it kept him on the blanket for a while.

Coincidentally, the book he’s reading is called “No, David!”

On a different day, he’d only lay under the blanket.

This was Tom’s idea. Easier to stage, but they both look a little shocked that we trusted David with the pose.

Looking at them together, the size difference is huge, but I sort of expected it. What surprises me more is comparing Mary Virginia, a tiny little newborn who stays wherever we put her, and then looking at David, a whirling dervish who never stays anywhere.

They’re not even two years apart but the physical difference is mind boggling. David eats with a fork, can get in the stroller by himself, knows the difference between Mama’s car and Daddy’s car, and can identify his Mimi’s voice on the phone. Even though all of my brain space for the past two years has been dedicated to things like breast feeding, cloth diapers, separation anxiety, some how I can’t quite remember the process. I can’t remember how we got through the sleep training, the uncertainty, the milestones.

Though I have visceral memories of bringing David home from the hospital, it also seems like he’s always been the toddler he is today, the toddler who builds a tower and then looks at me and screams “I DID IT!”

So when I look at them on that blanket, so big and so little, all I can think is, how did we get here from there?