This time around, I am tired. Was I this tired last time? Perhaps I was. Perhaps the brain forgets that babies make you tired so that the species can continue. In any case, my brain has been a bowl of cold of porridge for most of the past two days, but I’m going to write some stories here regardless, so that I don’t forget them. Forgive me if I drop any oatmeal in your lap.

We woke up on Sunday morning, and August was still there.

He looked much less awful with 24 hours under his belt, the hours smoothing the puffy, mangled aftermath of his dramatic arrival.

As the morning got under way, the battery of evaluations and vaccinations continued, the most dramatic looking of which is the hearing test.

Apparently, the little man failed to earn the minimum score, so we have to bring him back in a week or so in hopes that whatever gunk is blocking his ear canal has cleared.

He has three of the warning signs for jaundice, namely: 1) being male, 2) being of Asian descent, and 3) having siblings who had jaundice-like symptoms as newborns. And so, we let him spend much of the morning luxuriating in the sunlight.

It was a beautiful day.

Early afternoon, we received the clearance to go home, and so we went. I remember the moment we put Alden into her car seat for the first time, how preposterous it seemed.

We walked the little man out into the open air.

The hospital had been a temporary sanctuary, a place of quiet and control.

All of that was about to change.

Our early read on the sibling dynamics is this. Alden loves her littlest brother. The first thing she does when she comes into the room is look for him. She loves to hold him and to kiss his head. She is counting the minutes until she gets to feed him.

Kato is skeptical at best. He is clearly not pleased with his sudden demotion from baby of the family to middle manager. When asked if he’d like to kiss the baby, he issues a demonstrative, “NO!” When asked if he’d like to hold the baby, the “NO!” gets louder and is accompanied by a swat of his tiny hand, trying its best to be emphatic.

This is as close as the brothers have gotten. I had to trick Kato by promising him an apple. I just can’t believe that I have two sons.

Neither can Kato. Can you see the derision?

Once the clamor of introductions was past, we settled in for our first night together. When we showed August his room, he was overwhelmed by the luxury.

He was not so hard on us that night. Basically, all he wants to do is eat and sleep, which is probably true for all of us, at some level.

He also likes to poop. 4:00am is a particularly good time for it, apparently.

Monday morning saw a visit to the hospital lab for bloodwork followed by a visit with adoring fans.

A morning sun session in the studio (and a not-so-subtle introduction to August’s future favorite basketball team).

In the afternoon, we took him to the pediatrician for a poking and prodding.

We learned that the results of his bilirubin test were encouraging. He will not need daily blood tests (as Kato did). Perhaps this is a contributing factor to Kato’s resentment.

The little man spent much of the afternoon lounging on the ottoman, which we moved as the sun moved across the living room.

Look at this little thing.

I’m talking to myself right now, begging myself to remember. Because clearly I had forgotten just how small Alden and Kato once were, how helpless and how sweet. Babies are but tiny breathing lumps of need. The extent of their powerlessness is what endears them to us. That, and their fuzzy little heads. That, and their tiny grasping fingers.

That’s all for now. I have two other children to look after. Much more to come.

After all, this story is just beginning.