This afternoon after Z woke up from his nap, I brought Flik and a bottle and went into his room to feed him. He was definitely ready to eat, but I wanted to change his diaper first. Z was not happy about this choice, so he continued to cry while I changed him. Since I had Flik in the room with me, I asked him to come stand on the stool next to me while I changed Z and talk to him to hopefully minimize Z's crying. It took asking three times, but Flik finally agreed.
As expected, Z quieted down the second he could see his big brother and could hear Flik talking to him. About ten seconds after that, Flik noticed that Z had a little tear next to his eye, which was still there from when he had been crying before we got to his room. Flik reaches out his finger to touch it, but then right before he does, he gasps and bounds off the stool and out of the room. He comes racing back 30 seconds later with a small baby washcloth. (We keep all Flik's old baby washcloth's in Flik's room and he uses them as handkerchiefs. We call them "tear cloths" because "handkerchief" was too big a word when Flik was two.)
So Flik comes running in with the washcloth, steps back onto the stool, and very carefully wipes away Z's one tear.
Cue Mommy's melting heart.