I was examining the fine, downy swirls of peach fuzz on your neck and arms the other day when it hit me. One day this stuff is going to be courser. And darker. And most likely, spread across your face in some sort of suave goatee fashion. And I’m not quite sure how I feel about all this.
I now know what all those mamas with baby boys were talking about. You guys have a way of stealing our hearts and wrecking us for good…in the best way possible.
I’m smitten. Hook, line, and sinker, baby!
Your baby blues melt me. Your adorably soft hair tickles me {quite literally, at times}. Your deliciously huge belly concerns makes me chuckle. Your crazy-face pulling cracks me up every time! Your sweet smooches make me swoon. And the way your cheeks and ears jiggle when you run simply delights my heart!
You’re entirely too fantastic for words!
I love the way you apologize to your sister so sweetly when you wack her in the noodle with a toy car. Or bend down and kiss my big toe once you’ve discovered that you’ve ridden over it with your tricycle. It’s quite endearing, actually. Unsanitary as it may be.
The way you shriek “toot!” with such passion every time someone around you ‘pops a bunny’, and the pride with which you sing every word of “Happy Birthday” and almost every word of “Shoo Fly”, reminds me how desperately I need to work on proper children’s songs with you how much fun being little can be. Thanks for keeping me on my toes! I expect to feel this exhausted young well into my forties.
I love the way you respond with a simple “do!” whenever we ask you whether you’d like something. Usually it’s in regard to a cup of tea. Although that is most often followed up with a passionate “teee peeze, mama!”.
You’re very polite, squashy.
Except when you’ve been asked to lay down daddy’s sledge hammer and step away from his headlights. I’m hoping having your own tool bench now will allow for some distance between you and the heavy metal objects in the garage. And daddy’s motorcycle.
We’re also hoping now that there’s a massive play structure in the back yard, that you’ll refrain from climbing on top of daddy’s car every three days.
You’re an animal. In the best sense of the word.
You could quite easily be the wildest little creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. And yet…you’re delightfully tender and surprisingly affectionate at the same time. You’re all {sweet} boy, indeed.
You’re so patient with your big sister. Most of the time, that is. The way you allow her to dress you up in pink tutus and bedazzled tiaras, and get pushed around in a baby doll stroller, responding to the name “Penelope”, shows incredible naiveté character on your part. Atta boy!
By the way, we’re hoping to sign a contract with the NFL in the near future. You’d make a stellar linebacker. I’m not sure whether it’s the way you eat…or the way you emerged {10 pounds, 6 ounces}…that destined you for big boy success…but you’re well on your way! We keep reminding your sister that playing rough with you now might not be as fun for her in a couple of years {when the size tables have turned}. We’ll keep reminding her. You’re growing fast.
It’s hard to believe that 2 years have flown by so quickly. It seems like just yesterday you were making your presence well-known within my abdominal cavity.
We were just watching the home video of Bean turning 2, and there’s my belly…right in front of the camera…ripe and round, and ready to burst…and now look at you.
A fighter. A little warrior on a mission. To live!
I’ll never forget looking at you through the cold, hard glass in the PICU, just 10 little days old, begging God to allow us to keep you. You kicked that SVT in the heinie! Way to go, babe!
Thank you for alleviating my initial fear of raising a boy. Growing up in a home filled with estrogen afforded me little opportunity to discover just how cool little boys could be. God knew just the touch of dirt and spice we needed in this family…and you more than deliver.
You’re so stinking awesome.
And I simply love being your mum.
You rock our world, wild thing.
Happy 2nd Birthday, sweet boy!
