thinking about mighty waiting by this cross between a crib and an aquarium standing on tiptoes to see over it and talk to his baby brother who hasn't even lost his tadpole-looking vestigial tail yet
little 10-year-old mighty looking at even littler baby white bomber who already adores him, who makes little burbling noises when he sees mighty standing by his crib and sometimes fusses until mighty talks to him or holds him - him looking at this tiny, wonderful person, feeling tender and protective and for the first time not alone as he presses the drawings he's been making all morning face-first against the glass for his little brother to see while new shapes and colors are still exciting to him












