We didn't do much. Went for some walks, had some good meals, talked, laughed, and admired the baby. Took a bunch of pictures. I wish it wasn't a 5-hour drive to visit them, because I don't do it often enough.
His mom has decided that he really likes the song My Favorite Things. (I'm not sure why she thinks this, since I haven't noticed any particular excitement in him when it's sung, but he does seem to like music in general.) At one point I was holding him, and my sister was trying to take a picture with him smiling. For some reason he is camera-shy. He'll be all bubbling and happy and grinning, then as soon as I pull out my camera it all disappears.
So there I was, holding the stoic baby in front of the camera. His mom and dad started making faces at him, calling his name, trying to get him to look toward the camera and smile. "Sing My Favorite Things for him," his mom told his dad. So my brother started singing, but he stumbled over the words to the second line. Well. Who doesn't love singing The Sound of Music? So we all joined in enthusiastically, standing there crammed in the baby's little bedroom. I started swinging Will in rhythm with the music, even seizing his little hand and holding it aloft during the dramatic conclusion, and we were all laughing.
All except for the baby, that is, who mostly looked very puzzled by the whole experience. (You could see on his face, he was thinking in baby-talk, "My family is a bunch of freaks!") "Well, at least we enjoyed ourselves," said my brother.
Today is less than fun: I have a cold. I started feeling sick saturday night. I hope I didn't get the baby sick. His mom also started to feel like she was coming down with something. This is good (in a way), because if baby does get sick we can blame it on his mom, not me.