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.