Second Child Syndrome

It's bad enough that we only have managed to get two framed photos of BB on display. (As compared to the two dozen or so of BJ.... We've taken tons of pics of her, though admittedly not as many as we did of him at the same age; not that this is a bad thing, considering the insane number of pictures involved!) He's my avatar for my Etsy shop. He's on my Etsy banner and my business cards. Even though her crib is in their room, it's still "BJ's room" in the household parlance. Now he's threatening to take over the blog as well!

What can I say, it's a classic example of Second Child Syndrome.

Can't have that, so on the "pictures worth a thousand words" principle, here ya go, fresh from the download, taken just yesterday:

Mommy's sneezes are funny!

(What is it about faking a sneeze that makes it the universal baby joke?)

I love my toes!

Look where I rolled, Mom!

This last one says so much about the Second Child Syndrome. She has apparently decided her mother's housekeeping doesn't cut it -- once upon a time, when BJ was learning to crawl, I vacuumed compulsively. Now, I'm lucky to get it done once a week. Thus, the poor dear has taken it upon herself to dust under the futon for me. There are some serious dust buffaloes under there. It's amazing she's not visibly grey!

Which is another indicator of Second Child Syndrome: if I'd come into the room to find BJ under the futon, I would have grabbed him in a panic and washed him up immediately. (Actually, it would have been highly unlikely that I would have even left him alone in the room in the first place under such circumstances.)

Not only did I leave her there to explore. I grabbed the camera and documented it.

Sorry, BB.