Ian loves his baby sister. He squeals with delight as he snuggles up to her and kisses her. He's more than willing to run after the ball she dropped and give it back to her. He often gives her toys to keep her happy, even toys he's currently playing with.
All this love, however, comes at a price. I know why he's such an adoring older brother...she is his scapegoat.
A quick whiff of an all too familiar smell, and I ask, "Who pooped?"
With a twinkle in his eye, Ian delightfully yells, "Laurel pooped."
I actually believed him the first couple of times. But when every inspection proved a dry, clean diaper upon his innocent sister, I finally got wise. Now when I ask, "Who pooped?" and Ian replies, "Laurel," I go after him.