My son Jack is just as much my obsession as Lydia although I don’t post about him often. It is Lydia’s show on here after all. But I think she’d be happy to share her screen space once and awhile.

People ask me how Jack is handling things, by which I guess they mean how he’s handling his parents as the grief-stricken shipwreck they have been for the last four months. (I don’t think he minds at all about Lydia. He just simply accepts her, as she is of course.) I’d have to say that I’m actually not sure. He is a three-year-old, which means he’s already a storm of emotion and energy. He’s also a very, um, expressive person which means he’s got sparkling huge smiles and terribly loud cries. He’s very loud. About everything. He stomp-walks like he weighs 100lbs. He talks like you are in the next room…next to a passing train. He has a laugh that makes a quiet afternoon feel like a rowdy party. He both drives me absolutely crazy and keeps me going. But I don’t know if he feels scared or confused by the activity around his sister. I try to keep him away from the hospital and not cry in front of him. But I don’t want to pretend nothing is going on either. I don’t know how to handle this in the best way for him, but I hope he knows things will be okay, whatever happens and whatever that means.

A few weeks ago, as I was putting the kids in their carseats I casually said to Jack, “you know, your sister might not be able to do things that other babies do like crawl or laugh. Your sister is a little bit different from other babies. Do you know what I mean?” Jack thought for a little while and then answered firmly, loudly, “Yes. She has allergies.”

I was impressed with this answer. It fits the categories of both something medical and something she can’t do – you know, eat peanuts, crawl, that sort of thing. No big deal. Let’s get to the park, mom.

Maybe Jack is doing just fine. In fact, of course he is right? He’s Jack.