these boys.

I'm watching them from across the living room. They are huddled around the small dresser upon which our fish tank sits in the entryway, commiserating over how to unscrew one of the knobs on a drawer. Eli grows impatient and wanders away. A minute later and Gabriel succeeds! He marvels momentarily at the knob now in his hand but, having no one to rejoice with, sets it delicately atop the dresser and also wanders away. They take a break to watch "Toot & Puddle", the oldest pretending his cup of milk is "cocoa" and the younger absent-mindedly attempting to shed his shirt. (Shirts are overrated, you know.)

My middle son is turning two next week. How did that happen? Last week at my in-laws' house, I stood in front of their refrigerator and gazed at my sons' birth announcements. Noah's -of course- looks much like Gabriel's; as newborns they both had smooth features, large eyes, and pouty lips. Eli was our scrunchy newborn, with a pinched, wrinkly face that seemed angry and a shrieking wail to confirm the notion. He is a silent plotter now, always up to something but absolutely irresistible even at his worst. I will wake up on his birthday and swoop into he and Gabriel's bedroom to attack him with kisses - his father and I will sing "Happy Birthday" at the top our lungs - and I will tearfully observe him eating celebratory chocolate-chip pancakes, wondering where the time went.

But now, it is time to log off the computer and replace the poor dresser knob that is still sitting forlornly beside the fish tank. These boys are growing up, and they won't wait for me to have a good cry about it.