Biggest brother

Caleb is my observant, inquisitive one. So it came as no surprise that he was less interested in the new baby than he was in the logistics surrounding his arrival.

"There's no more baby in your belly?" he asked at my bedside as I showed off his 12-hour-old baby brother in the hospital. Nope, I assured him, gesturing to the baby lying on my chest.

"How did the doctors get him out of there?" he inquired. I paused, apparently just long enough to make Caleb think that I wasn't quite sure.

"Did they use special tools?" he offered. I nodded. If that answer satisfies him, it's good enough for me.

He poked at my postpartum belly, apparently enjoying the gelatin-like state it was in.

"If there's no more baby in there, why is there still a bump?" he asked, in the adorable, innocent way that allows 3-year-olds to get away with saying stuff like that.

Once we got past our game of twenty questions, we assured him we'd be home soon, and reminded him that he'll have to be very gentle with Levi when he comes home.

"I'll take good care of little Levi," he promised. "I'll only give him soft toys." (Apparently his big sister has been giving him the same lecture we gave her when we brought Jacob home from the hospital.)

And true to his word, that's just what he did. Shortly after breakfast, the parade of stuffed animals began. Within 10 minutes, I'm fairly certain Caleb had found every soft toy in our house and piled them high atop his brother in my lap.

He even offered up his own blankie and his beloved Sharky.

I think he's going to handle this biggest brother thing just fine.