2 year old boy

Oh, joyful, wonderful two year old son!  When everything is new and every question is, "Wassat mama?"  and every assertion is, "My do it, Mama!"  Not a baby, not a big boy.  Still I hear in the night,  "I need you, mama.  My scared."  Still you want to "suggle" and yet you run just far enough ahead to make my mama heart beat fast, wildly aware of the world.  Wildly unaware of any problems or dangers.

You bring so much excitement to whatever you do.  You feel the joy, with your whole body and it can't stay still.  Your favorite things are anything with wheels and I hear the sound of cars and trucks and trains come out of you wherever we go.  Every time we drive over a train track, you notice if there is a train or not.  "No train, mama," you say sadly.  Or "Train!" even if it makes us stop to wait.  It makes the waiting easier to see you love it so much.  

When you were born, I remember standing in the middle of the room while a friend was visiting and crying to her that I didn't have enough love for two kids.  She replied, "You do.  You just don't have enough arms."  And it's true.  I didn't have enough arms to hold both of you as much as I wanted to.  I wanted to hold you all the time.  But you took sharing your mama in stride and are so independent, yet still connected now.  A beautiful balance.  You are so strong and brave.  My heart wells up when I see you doing brave things all by yourself.  You've even taught your sister to be brave and to try new things too!  And my heart wells up again, when you come and find me and say, "I need you, mama."

Your Papa introduced you to the movie Cars at a very young age and it has become the anthem by which you live.  Everyone is a character from the movie.  Tractors say "Moo" rather than "chug chug".  All police cars are "Sheriff".  It is sweet and endearing...until you throw a fit about not being able to sleep with your miniature Lightning McQueen.  It's still sweet to see you so excited about something.  Sometimes we snuggle and talk about your imaginings.  Your sentences grow more complete every day.  Every day you say something and I marvel at how fast you learn to communicate your thoughts.  You see jokes in things we say.  "Mama funny," you say.  (or Cora , or Papa, or a friend)  You are very aware of people and how they feel.  "Mama sad?" you ask, when my pregnancy hormones overwhelm me during a family cartoon viewing (sheesh).  "What wrong?"  Oh my tender hearted boy.  So like your Papa.  Don't harden your heart too much to protect it from the big world.  You charm everyone with your smile, wherever we go. (you even try it on Mama when you get in trouble, but I am growing more and more immune to that head tilt and mischievous grin, thank goodness.) You have never met a stranger.  You still take everything and everyone in and wonder at it all.  My favorite sentence you said recently was, "WOW!  I yike it!"  and that pretty much sums up how you greet the world.

Not to say that you don't rail at injustice.  The injustice of not being able to sleep with your monster trucks.  The injustice of not getting to have instant food as soon as the mood strikes you to be hungry.  The injustice of feeling grumpy after naptime.  The injustice of having a big sister who sometimes bosses the heck out of you.  The injustice of having to take a potty break.  Oh yes, my love.  Then, you howl as though the very world should fall at your feet and do your bidding.  And sometimes fight back.  We have to teach you daily to use those small hands for loving, not for hitting.  It is hard to be small.  It is hard to have to leave the giant mud puddle and head home when the sun sets.  I understand. 

You adore your Papa.  He is the only one you want to play with or snuggle at night right now.  You sit on his lap and ask him a million questions about what he is doing on his computer.  You sit and watch silly car cartoons together and always laugh at the funny parts.  You two, and your sister, wrestle and act rambunctious every night when the parent bed becomes a trampoline and wrestling arena.  It is wonderful to see.  You children have each taught his heart something as well as mine.  Our love for you grows every day.

I can't wait to see the boy you are becoming, when all the words you want to say finally come out.  I pray that you will never lose the joyful exuberance you bring to life.  Happy Birthday, my sweet boy.

Love,
Mama