He was born only 2 minutes after his sister, at 6:20pm on St. Patty's Day. But not by choice. He had so lodged himself beneath my right ribcage that he'd already fractured one of my ribs and had two O.B.s up on their knees on the operating table pulling and tugging to get him out of there. We didn't think he was ever going to come out. And I remember wondering how much longer he could realistically live in there if they couldn't dislodge him. I mean, his sister had already punched out enough room for him to double in size, so I guess, theoretically, he could've stayed until he was 15 pounds at least -- what is that typically, 3 months old?
And here he is at 5, still and always prefering to stay home in his jammies all day with a warm cup of leche and a good book.
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