As of 12:50 p.m. today, you were two years old. You act every bit of it. We have moments where you are declaring all-out war against my senses, screaming and kicking and throwing yourself on the floor. We have days when you whine incessantly during our car rides, when you demand a snack, no not THAT snack, but rather THAT snack. We have moments you want to be picked up, followed by a torrent of letmedownpickmeupputmedownWOMAN! Those moments are enough to make me tear my hair out.
Then we have other moments. Moments when you freely give kisses, when you sing 'Baa baa, black sheep' before going to bed. We have times when you show how caring you are, sharing your fruit snacks and Goldfish crackers with me. Times when you smile, when I see the light in your eyes because I finally understand what you are trying to tell me. We have moments when I see glimpses of your sense of humor as you tease me into playing games with you when I don't even know how to play. It's these moments which completely offset the trying times. Even more, I have those really special times, when I see you and Laurel go hand-in-hand up the driveway to the car or into her room, or wherever — but you're doing it together, and she's teaching you. I can only hope you follow in her footsteps.
You're growing so fast these days and learning so quickly. I'm missing my baby, because he's turning into a little boy.
Happy birthday, son. I'm so proud to have you, and I hope you're proud to have me, too.
Scenes from today's party: