When T was a baby, I used to tell Bubbs the stories of our friend's kids. I'd come home from my mama groups or coffee with other new moms and thank our lucky stars that T was such a mellow happy kid. Bubbs used to complain that T "fought sleep" like he did when he was a kid. I'd argue with him, but since he had so little to compare it to, he never really got it.
Baby D is a little more high maintenance than we're used to.
He pretty much acts like we're torturing him all the time.
Partly because we are, I suppose. Whenever our mellow gentle almost-three-year-old comes around "the brother" he starts shrieking, poking, and jumping around. This stresses out mama and daddy, which in turn probably stresses out both kids, who then react.
This bundle of cuteness also doesn't get as much naked, singing, loving, skin to skin as his brother did. There just ain't time.
So far, no one else has been able to hold him without him screaming.
The boob solves almost nothing.
Reading back, at this same age (and pretty much his whole life), T only cried when hungry or overtired.
This one only cries ALWAYS. Screams. Goes from happy to HOLY CRAP I HATE THE WORLD AND YOU ARE KILLING ME in 2.4 seconds.
But we love him.
If you ask T about "the brother" - he'll tell it like it is.
"Um, he just cries a lot - and he's a really grumpy brother."