Frank and Hank (or is it Hank and Frank?)

I wish I had been sleeping more when I ordered Henry's birth announcements.

I would have been thinking more clearly and would have said,

"completely smitten, andrew and ali"

"completely confused, franklin".

Since Henry's arrival, Franklin has been amazing with him.

He just isn't sure what to think of him.

Franklin turned three on Monday.

I suppose it's time to quit calling him Puppy Franklin. He is grown up.

Actually, on May 29th, when we brought Henry home from the hospital, he officially grew up.

We had thought all along while I was pregnant with Henry that Franklin knew a change was coming. And when I woke up on Sunday, May 27th with contractions, he jumped in bed with us and laid his head on my belly for hours. It was time, and he sensed it.

Time for Henry to arrive, and time for Franklin to grow up.

I'm not saying he's a saint; he still has slip-ups.

He likes to bark at the mailman when I'm trying to get Henry to nap. He dug in the mud in the middle of the night while I was up feeding the baby and had to have a bath at 3am. He still loves to run into the nursery and grab the faux fur off the ottoman and run around with it.

But. He is so good with Hank.

Just comes up and smells him...sometimes gives him a kiss. But usually just sniffs and then lays down beside us.

And always comes into the nursery with me for the middle-of-the-night feedings.

His world has changed, but surely he knows we still love him so much.

And so does Henry.