Boromir stares into the cradle suspiciously. "Mother, he's not doing anything," he complains. "He's just lying there."

"That is what babies do," I tell him, amused at his impatience. "They need to time to grow, and growing takes a great deal of sleep."

He continues studying at his new brother. As I watch, Boromir gingerly touches one of Faramir's tiny hands, and his eyes widen when Faramir stirs at the contact. "Ooh, he moved," he breathes, suddenly fascinated.

I must smile at Boromir's awe; I have felt that way since he himself was born. And now I am twice-blessed.