Monday, February 13, 2012


We've been calling you two for a little while now; you're just so two-ish. You're big, you're bossy, you're very, very determined. But today was your birthday, sweet boy, and now you're actually two. You're our little man.

Okay, there's nothing little about you.

You got sick this weekend, nothing tragic but I'm trying to write you a sweet birthday note so I'm being vague about the body-oozes. Let's just say you double-dared the washing machine, and if there's one thing this house doesn't need, it's a laundry challenge. And cheese sticks are particularly pungent when you liquefy them into mouth geysers. See, isn't this a sweet birthday note? Thank goodness we were in your bed, and not mine. Also, tell your sister who kept asking: that's why I was wearing Daddy's sweatshirt instead of one of my own. I know what you're capable of, son. Wearing Daddy's clothes? That's called being prepared. Mamas are good at it. Also, God bless the person who invented waterproof mattress pads.


Snot-nose is the least of our concerns.

Just before you got sick, we took you for a haircut, your second one. Unlike the first one, you were less than calm. You were fiercely opposed to the strange lady touching your head, and you let her know. You're two now, and you have these opinions. I know it's perverse but I love watching you argue with strangers. You remind me of your sisters, which delights me. And you're showing us your You personality, which I could study forever. For all I complain about Two, it's a great age for learning who your little person is.

And you, my little person, are developing a robust temperament. You are clever and you are funny and you are sensitive. You can read my mood, and you deliver redemptive kisses. Never mind that your behavior might have been what instigated my mood: for example, I know, sweet boy, that at school they feed you with plastic spoons and ask you to throw them out at the end of a meal, but I'd really prefer that you deliver our silverware to the sink. Regardless, I applaud your self-sufficiency.

You and I stayed home together today. I watched you with your long limbs and big eyes and short hair, my sweet boy. I held you almost all day long, and so maybe today was a gift: I held all day just as I did two years ago, when you were first mine and you were born.

You were the child who was supposed to come complete our family and before we had you, I'd imagine our family life just like this: kids running around with each other, crazy everywhere, but a happy crazy.

(Okay, I didn't imagine the laundry.)

You made our dreams come true, and that's not a sappy line, it's the fulfillment of a far-off vision your father and I drew together when we decided we would build a family. You're our capstone, adored by your sisters (and equally frustrating to - can you stop coloring on their projects, please?) and beloved by all of us. You're just what we hoped for, and you're here, and we love you.

Someone hides behind the birthday bear his aunt made for him when I mention wiping out his eyes.

Now stop oozing.

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Uncle Matt said...

Happy birthday, G! And feel better!

Aimee @ Smiling Mama said...

Oh happy day!!! I knew our littles were close but didn't realize they are just a month apart.

Christina D. said...

I love this post - anything to do with little man G is my favorite. Happy birthday!

SmartBear said...

Wow how time flies! Happy birthday G!

January Dawn said...

Adorable Robin. 2 is such a fun, sweet, tempestuous age. I love it. Happy birthday to your sweet boy.