again, i lift you onto the potty.
again, you ask for car taysh. again, we watch the videos, the cars slicing across lanes, crunching into one another.
you exclaim WOAH with unholy glee.
this week has been a bit of a taysh.
a little out of control, a little scary, a little painful.
you, hovering over that yawning space, with too many yays to live up to.
vava, growing up by the mouthful, yelping with pain as her teeth cut from the inside out.
mama, a little bit crazy from all the cheering and soothing and back-and-forthing.
you don't get to be the one learning again. you, my brave boy, have to be the first. they will copy you, adoring satellites, and they won't worry about the unknown what ifs because they will have you.
i know. sometime, you will get this.
and you'll be the calm pro when we teach your siblings.
and go through all this madness, again.