This evening ended on a sour note. We had a nice dinner. The boys were being so good and sweet. They pushed each other around the house in a diaper box and made each other laugh. Then, just as I was reaching down to pick him up and carry him to bed, the baby tripped over my foot and face-planted onto the laminate floor. He bit his lip. Blood everywhere. Took him a good twenty minutes to calm down.
My four-year-old rushed to the bathroom and brought back a handful of Band-Aids. He thinks Band-Aids solve everything.
"I feel really, really bad for him," he said. "I feel so bad. If that was me, I would be very upset."
His empathy came to him as a revelation.