How to Avoid That Pesky Second Child Syndrome

Everyone says the same thing. You won't take as many pictures of your second kid as you do the first. The second's baby book will sit unfilled while the first's has been filled out in calligraphy. You know the story. But guess what? There's a way to make sure that doesn't happen. It's called having an ridiculously advanced child. 

Not that I'm comparing or anything, but hey-zeus is my daughter shocking the hell out of me on a daily basis. Sam was a little behind with talking because of his ears, so I guess I didn't expect too much from Lulu in terms of words. Well, she's decided to prove me wrong because the girl can talk her way out of almost any situation already. She's mastered two word phrases like, 'Mommy, open!' or any other command type sentence. She understands various concepts and opposites like up and down, open and close, hot and cold. She can play several games and sing dozens of songs. 

People, she can count to 13. 

She can't drive yet, but probably by next week...

She can name all of her body parts, even down to differentiating between mouth, teeth and tongue. She will bring me a book and ask for a story. She will also sit by herself and 'read' her books for way longer than I can. She had a crazy attention span. She can operate toys designed for children Sam's age. She can feed the cat. 

You think I'm joking?

She can give hugs and kissed, but she can throw down a tantrum with the best of them. She must weigh more than thirty pounds by now, or else I'm getting weak. She's tall, her hair is long and her cheeks are rosy. She's so beautiful it takes my breath away. She runs, she tries to jump, she kicks a ball. 

I had a dream last weekend that the new baby was a girl, and that she was a miniature carbon copy of Lucy. 

And I was so happy.