If there was a job description listed in the paper, and Sean was the perfect little applicant, here is how it would have read:
Infant wanted. Need to become accustomed to extreme amounts of noise. Ability to be flexible as far as napping and meal times. Pleasant disposition in all situations including long car rides, being toted from activity to activity, and a mother that frequently forgets your diaper bag and bottles. Need to be able to live in a house full of legos without ingesting them and play with Star Wars guys, matchbox cars, pots and pans, Nintendo DSes, and other total (age)inappropriate toys. Skills including escaping your oldest brother’s embrace, sweet-talking brothers into reaching high objects, and telling mom that dad said yes, and telling dad that mom said yes, a definate plus.
If you are intersted in being doted on, not only by two parents, but three older brothers, sleeping anywhere you wish, having ice pop appetizers for breakfast and being referred to as the most adorable thing that any of us have ever seen – this job is for you!
That job description never existed, because there was no job! When I found out I was pregnant with Sean, I could not fathom getting through nine months (the way I do pregnancy) and how in the world I was going to fit this baby into the already Crazy Costello Clan. Then, it all changed. He was born, and all was right with the world. When I first visted him in the NICU, he was at complete rest, arms splayed and hands gently open with his head @#!*% to the side seemingly enjoying the warming lights. I looked at the nurse and said, “he’s just not like my other baby’s – he’s different.” I ask him, often, ‘where did you come from?’ and he claims to have been at Grandma’s house. “She sent me here”, he says.
I ask him to not grow up. He says ok. But they’re empty promises, today he turns 3.