Ever notice how the excitement and eagerness one experiences when the second child reaches a developmental milestone is inversely proportional to that experienced when the first child reached the same milestone?
First Child: ooh look he just rolled over! yay!
*high fives and jungle dancing follows*
Second Child: ooh look he just rolled over! great
*grumbling and lamenting loss of unsupervised naps in bed *
First Child: did he just stand by himself? woohoo!
*chocolate milk shots and bhangra ensues*
Second Child: did he just stand by himself? $%^!
*clears pottery from window ledge and gives up sitting down with a cup of hot chai*
First Child: ohmigosh he’s crawling – he’s actually getting around by himself!
*pure delirium and race for the cameras*
Second Child: ohmigosh he’s crawling – he’s actually getting around by himself!
*hairs grey instantaneously and all furniture posted for sale on craigslist*
There truly can only be one first time and nothing like the first time, eh?
But those feet? Yes those chubby, munchable feet that tiptoe through oversized shorts in an attempt to drop the fishing net into the toilet bowl? They still get me. And I’m hot fudge running down vanilla ice-cream. Every. Single. Time.