Wow! My son is two today.
I’ve spent (nearly) every day of the past two years with this little person. That wasn’t supposed to happen, but I’m glad it did.
We’ve crossed an ocean together. We’ve explored England, Italy and Scotland together. I’ve taught him the joys of dance parties and bubbles, and he has reminded me of the joys of dirt, crayons and Play-Doh.
Toddlers can be a ton of fun, if you’re well rested and not trying to accomplish anything.
I’m pretty sure there’s something special about this one. His secret dimple, his tender heart; the way he is so thoughtful about so many things he does. The way he can be an infuriating stinker and still be lovable.
Then there are the things the grandparents want to hear about: he can count to 14 perfectly, and almost to 20. He recognizes the letters W, N, O, S, Z and sometimes Y, A, P and Q. He sings most of the ABCs, Twinkle, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Row Your Boat, Wheels on the Bus, Ring Around the Rosie and, now, Happy Birthday. He recognizes Bruce Springsteen songs (and says “Boss!”). He likes to jump like a kangaroo (“boing boing boing!”). He knows all of the big trucks and diggers in his books, and even knows the name “asphalt compactor.”
He apologizes to his toys when he accidentally kicks or drops them. He destroys his train tracks with manic joy. He likes to feed bits of his food to the Thomas printed on his breakfast plate. He knows the difference between freight and passenger trains.
He likes to match up shapes and colors, and will climb on a table to match up with a drawing of himself.
He likes to help in the kitchen. He wishes mommy knew how to fly the RC helicopter. He says “thank you” and sometimes “please.” He likes kisses from Plato, and has mostly stopped trying to ride him like a horse.
He’s really stinkin’ cute. And I hope his birthdays get happier and happier each year.