My sister-in-law gave birth to her second child a week ago.
A boy.
On one hand, this new addition thrills me to no end because Malcolm will have a little "partner in crime" for the rest of his life. He will have someone to hang out with during family functions and vacations ... Someone with whom to make memories ... And tell secrets ... And play games ... And have sleepovers. Ultimately, when they are big enough, he will have an instant friend, one that (unlike a sibling) won't have to compete for parental attention.
On the other hand, seeing this new baby makes me equal parts sad and nostalgic.
For one thing, just look at how gigantic my baby currently is!
At only a week old, the new guy is obviously a tiny, little peanut ... Yet he is already bigger than Malcolm was at this exact same moment a year and a half ago (in fact, he's got him beat by a full pound and a couple of inches!).
Was Malcolm ever really that small?!
It's hard to remember ... And now he seems like a full-fledged giant by comparison.
As if that biological clock wasn't ticking loud enough already ...
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