First, a thought (inspired by Cara's comment) about striving to raise independent thinkers.

I had to breathe deeply, and think clearly to respond to a comment of Liam's this morning, which was: Was George W. Bush a terrible president?
I took a deep breath, feeling so much less energized on the subject now that he is back in Texas (where he belongs!!)......
George W. Bush tried his hardest to be a good president, I told him, but he made some decisions that a lot of people didn't agree with. But he did try his best to be a good president.
Is there any reason why I would not to instill this hope in the human race in my little son?
I think not.

Second, the thought that was on my mind before I read the comments from last post:

I just returned from a quiet, fire-lit visit with my friend Sara, who welcomed her dear little girl Kathleen last month, only several days before the anniversary of her beloved baby Henry's death. With holidays and such it has taken me this long to get a meal to Sara and her family, and it was such a pleasure to sit with them, in the midst of absolute baby-dom, with swings, and gift bags, and clean, folded diapers, the fire crackling in the background. Her husband chatted to me enthusiastically, showing me video clips of Henry, showing off his album that Sara had finished before Kathleen's birth, and telling me stories of Henry's days in and out of the hospital. They were almost all stories I'd heard before, from Sara, but I let him tell me, so that my ears could hear the stories of Henry's brief life again, to make him a little more real to me, and so that Brian could say the stories again, tugging Henry a little closer in the process. All the while tiny Kathleen was alert and wide eyed, her dimple flashing, her eyes periodically focusing and then staring off, heart innocently beating away, her chest rising and falling. I loved feeling her slight weight in my arms, and hearing her little noises. It was a joy to enter their home, my first time there, and to feel as if I was meeting both of their children at the same time. Two real children for their family, one in arms.
And then I thought, an hour later as I kissed my own dear Liam on the head, how funny that I have this, this biggest boy in my house, this big brother who will rule the roost and boss everyone around and win my heart, while she has lost her biggest boy. And she, in contrast, holds in her arms the big sister, the mother in every single game of house, the doting hen who will call on any future siblings far into the future, ensuring their well-being. She has what I've lost. And while sad, we are both happy. One never knows where life will take us.