Turning 2

Our fantabulous babysitter, Miss Jane, commented the other day, "I think someone snuck into Mr. A's room in the middle of the night and told him that he is 2 now and can act accordingly at anytime." I think Jane is right. And I think we’re in trouble. It’s like someone hit the switch on the kid and I certainly can't find the off piece! He's crazy, but so sweet sometimes.

And so, to my Mr. A, because you're 2, and because I love you so dearly, I will let you celebrate your birthday all week long. On your real birthday in the middle of the week, we'll make you cupcakes (yellow, with homemade choc. frosting, of course), blow out some candles, eat your favorite foods (homemade mac n' cheese, applesauce, and mushrooms), watch Wiggles (“Googles” to you) at 7 am and Shrek at some point in the day, go to the library, eat at Chick-Fil-A and play on the awesome playground, and then top off the day with a delicious bubble bath. Many people that love you will call and sing “Happy Birthday” to you, and you will insist that they include Nana, Papa, and Uncle Matt. No clue why. Guess you’re just good at sharing like that. Even when I come to get you out of your crib on your real birthday morning and to start to sing, “Happy Birthday to you,” you’ll shake your head and grumpily say, “NO! NO!” Sorry, but at our house, you are not permitted to be grumpy on your birthday or to deny us the pleasure of singing as many times as we want.

The cake - yes, it's Shrek, and no, I'm not offended that you think it doesn't look like him.

Mr. A and his BG (beautiful grandma) - thanks for coming to celebrate, Mom!

No, really, it's Shrek! Can you believe that?!

Blowing as hard as he could - we're working on the effects of the blowing - promise.

And, then, on the weekend, we’ll have another day of celebration with swim class, a great nap, all of your favorite people coming over to jump on your bouncer, dance to the rock-out version of “Hokey Pokey,” eat your “Shrek” cake that your mom painstakingly made (and that, most likely, none of your siblings will ever have the privilege of getting [homemade characters, that is] – sorry, siblings) had to tell you was Shrek before you realized it, sing more Happy Birthday to you, eat Shrek fruit snacks and other healthy fare, and then top off your night with a little bowling on the Wii (you asked for it). Aren’t your dad and I the nicest parents ever?!

How do you not love this?

Is it too much to ask you in 20 years to still call me “Mama,” let me kiss your owies, hold your hand while you walk down the stairs, cuddle you in my lap while I sing “Sunshine” and read you “That’s Not My Train” before we go to bed, finish your prayers with “AAAAA-min,” let me sneak into your room before I retire each night, to put socks on your feet and cover you with a blanket and marvel at how big you’re getting, give me fishy kisses, say sorry when you hit me (“saw-saw”), stay firmly rooted on the stairs when you’re in “time out”, get so excited when I walk in the door with your eyes lighting up and that darling grin sneaking its way across your mouth, ask where I am if I’m not in the same room as you, to hold your blankie on my shoulder while you cuddle with me, to pour the bubbles in your bubble bath and let you kick so hard they spread like crazy, only want to jump to me when we’re at the pool, and be just as passionate about your dad as you are today? Just wondering. Know that I love you and am so proud to be your mother. Happy 2-year birthday, my sweet prince!