Every morning when I’m done feeding Eleanor, I immediately have to take the empty bottle into the kitchen where Everett can’t get it. If I don’t, he grabs it and tries to force-feed her an empty bottle. And when I try to take it away from him, he goes into major meltdown mode, because he can’t understand why I won’t let him “help.”
So every morning, Everett is waiting in the wings for the very second I stand up. And every morning, without fail, he jumps up on the couch next to his baby. (Yes, I think he thinks she’s his.) Usually he gives her kisses and babbles to her in a really high-pitched voice, and often he’ll rest his head on her tummy. But this particular morning I just had to snap a couple pictures. To Everett, there’s no such thing as close enough when it comes to his precious baby sister. And I don’t think she minds one bit.