My husband, Daniel, laughed. “Most newborns are.”
Max frowned at him. “No, Dad. I mean tiny tiny. Like if I sneeze wrong, she’ll fly away.”
Then he bent close to her and said, very solemnly, “I’m your big brother. I got you.”
I cried right there in that hospital bed.
So when we brought our daughter home the next afternoon, and Max suddenly refused to go near the nursery, I thought maybe the reality had finally hit him. I was exhausted, sore, leaking milk through my bra, and running on maybe two hours of sleep.
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