For the most part, Oliver has adjusted amazingly well to having a sibling—he loves George, especially now that she's out of adorable blob phase and can actually play with him, or at least try to. She reveres him and of course finds him hilarious; their favourite game right now is chase, at which she is at a distinct disadvantage given even fast crawling can't keep up with running—but she doesn't seem to mind, and sometimes he even drops to his fours.
Still, there is the whole problem of my having to divide my attention between two. He's overall patient, but he also makes it clear how much he wants alone time with me, which I try (with Craig's help) to give him whenever possible.
When I pick him up at school, his first question following the usual "Can I wear my Canucks shirt now?" (this shirt still makes up at least one-third of our daily conversation—we're into year two of the obsession) is,
"Can I do something with you?"
"Do you want to do something with me?"
Second to Canucks attire, with Oliver, is a big deal. To be honest, his bond with me is sometimes overwhelming; it can be hard to catch my breath sometimes from the sheer force of it. There are nights when I'm told at least ten times how much I am liked and loved.
See? What am I complaining about. Life changes in the blink of an eye. This is a blink. There will be many, many years in the future where I will return to this blink and try to remember every blessed, intense second of it.