Comforting.

The other day, I was talking (IM'ing, actually) with my good friend who happens to live in Belgium and is expecting his first child this summer. It was about 3:45 a.m. in Brussels - Joe just happened to be up watching a Mizzou dominate Memphis in the NCAA tournament.

Momma, who was sitting next to me, made some crack about how watching basketball at 3:45 a.m. was "good practice for when that baby comes along."

"Comforting," was Joe's response.

At the time I couldn't think of much to say that would actually be of much comfort.

But this weekend, watching Number One run around and do all things she can do now, I realized that the real comfort is that before you know it, the baby becomes a child.

Sure, when you're in the middle of the Dark Time it seems like the little screamer will be a little screamer forever.

But they won't.

They'll start walking and running and talking and repeating words like "D-bag."

And now that we're expecting Number Two, that's comforting.

Trouble.

The other day Number One was sitting in my lap and saying "ba!" and gesturing for emphasis.  Given that "ba!" can mean several different things, I wasn't entirely sure what she was saying.

When I explained that I didn't know what she was talking about, she threw her hands up an rolled her eyes as if to say, "Oh, Papa, you are a poor dumb monkey."

Already?