You would think that being engaged in working on a photo series about things left behind would make me a little more aware and less likely to forget to clean up, myself, but it doesn't seem to have worked out that way.

Somewhat tangentially (though relevant to the photograph, I suppose) we've been redecorating lately and have hung a number of canvases of my images in our living room and kitchen. I'm not quite sure how I feel about having my own work on my walls, but for the time being, anyway, I can't really afford anyone else's.

As much as my younger brother and I are friends now, the main memory I have of our interactions growing up is of us fighting. Often with words, sometimes with fists—occasionally, even in song. So when Juliette and I started talking about having a second child, I had a little apprehension about how Jason would deal with it.

But as it turns out, they really do seem to love each other so far. They have their squabbles, sure, but Jason is mostly caring and conscientious toward his sister. And as far as Eva goes, you can see from the picture that she adores her big brother.

That smile—the one she gives him when he plays with her—it wasn't something I was expecting, but it's one of the best things in my life.

I'd like to be able to say something insightful here, but to be honest, what's going through my head right now is this:

Digging, digging,
This is how we dig the ground
In our garden, in our garden.
Digging, digging,
This is how we dig the ground
Early in the morning.

It's a little unnerving to be around other artists sometimes. Just after I snapped this, my sister-in-law leaned in and told me that she'd noticed the textures in the rock face, too, as well as the contrast between the orange of the rock and the blue of Jason's shirt, and she'd just been about to ask me to take this picture so she could use it to paint from. I guess the fact that we both saw something means that there was something there.

Done with one thing and on to the next. A bath, in this case. Such is the life of a child—always forward.

Lately we've been feeling like Eva has been looking bigger. Older and more grown up, yes, but actually physically larger, too. It makes sense, considering how much she eats—her meals are often larger than Jason's, and she eats just about anything.

It came as a bit of a surprise, then, to be reminded just how small she really is, when at Jason's party she was by far the smallest baby there. And that despite being one of the oldest.

I guess Juliette and I just make little babies. They seem to be turning out well otherwise, though, so we're fine with that. And I suppose it's nice that there's less strain on the arms this way.

Jason got to help his mom make the cupcakes for his birthday party on Saturday. I imagine that it won't be too terribly long before he stops wanting to help do anything—in any case, when it happens it won't feel like much time has passed—but for now he's still young enough that being a "helper" is a treat.

Juliette's parents got Jason a bike for his birthday. He was, as you might imagine, quite excited about it. He was somewhat less enthusiastic about pedaling across ground that had even a mild incline, but I'm sure he'll get there.

Dear Jason,

You turned four yesterday. It was a pretty good day—you got to open presents and have a special breakfast with your aunt and uncle; you rode on a real bicycle for the first time; you got to skip your nap; you went to your friend's party at Pump It Up and had lots of fun, and you were very gracious in making sure that he got to be the special birthday boy, even though it was your birthday, too.

You've been doing a lot of that lately, being reasonable and gracious and well-behaved. You do still have your outbursts, but you do seem to have left your threes behind. I love being able to talk with you, now that you're old enough to have real conversations. I love seeing you talk with your friends and your sister, too.

Speaking of your sister, when I wrote your birthday letter last year I mentioned some of the things you thought you'd do when you got to be a big brother. As it has turned out, you have given your sister lots of gentle hugs and kisses (and a few less gentle ones), but you haven't driven my car yet. I said last year that I thought you'd be a good big brother, and you are. I know that sometimes it's hard to have a baby sister, because babies get lots of attention and they don't know not to hit or bite or pull hair. Sometimes you get upset, but even then you're always sweet with Eva. It makes me proud to see the way you take care of her.

This afternoon when were watching gymnastics, you said that you were going to go to the Olympics. You said you were a really fast runner and a really good swimmer. (Then you were surprised that Mommy and I never went to the Olympics.) I don't know if you'll be an Olympian some day, but maybe you will. I love that you already dream big. I hope you can still dream that big when you get to be a grown-up.

I love you, buddy. Happy belated birthday.

Another trip through the archives tonight as I'm gearing up for Jason's birthday. This one was from our trip to Virginia to visit my parents this spring. I was testing out my medium format camera a lot during that trip, but, sadly, it turned out to be busted—only one shot in three was exposed properly. I really miss the experience of medium format; it was a lot of fun.

(I miss my parents, too, just so you know.)