I woke up to this:

(Technically, I went to bed with it like this, but we won't get into that...)

Ethan said, "How many minutes is it going to take?"

"A lot."

"A hundred? What comes after a hundred?"

"A hundred and one."

"What's next?"

"A hundred and two."

"Then what?"

"A hundred and three. A hundred and four. A hundred and five. A hundred and six."

And then eyeing the dishes with his raised eyebrows, "Mom, what's the last number?"

Yes, it may take me that long. I grinned anyway.

Ethan was born six years after Caleb and so I worried about their "connection." But they have been remarkably good friends given their age difference. On Sunday, the kids wrote thank-you notes in Primary. They could choose anyone they wanted to thank. Caleb wrote this:

Dear Ethan,
I'm thankful for you because you bring a light into my life and make me happy. I'm glad your my brother.
Love, Caleb

Oh, yes. A light. Caleb has it just right. And my heart squeezed so hard it hurt. To have a boy that is indeed a light, and to have a boy that conscientiously and humbly wrote this to his brother.

And finally, there's this. Last Saturday afternoon this is how I found my "baby": gathering more evidence for his case. He exclaimed, "See, Mom, this is why you should put me in the circus."

He doesn't yet know that I will never be able to let him go.