Dear PIE,
I wrote in your journal, but not here, when your 2nd birthday came around. I will date this on your birthday so it can be found, but today is July the 10th and you have been solidly in 2 for several months. I think you are just getting better with every day.
You told me your first joke. It involved poop. You find funny words and voices to use in your ever expanding vocabulary and when you get us to laugh, in true baby of the family form, you use that joke often and well. It's lovely. You give the best smooches and hugs, say I love you without thinking, cradle my old Pépe bear in your arms wherever you go. You play hard. You stomp your foot and yell "NO!!" at the top of your tiny voice. We have learned the hard way that to meet you head on is to meet with defeat and sobbing. I take the back way and lead you where we need to go, and you go joyfully and willingly.
You and your brother wrestle in wild ways that make my heart thump, worried a head will get knocked or someone is going to fall off the bed or lose a tooth. I've worried that you have knocked my own tooth loose, but when something does happen, you say in your little voice. "I SO sorry, Mama" (or Cora, or Papa, or Judah) and you mean it.
You LOVE (I can't emphasize that enough) your Papa and some part of you has wormed into his heart even deeper that the other kids managed to get. Maybe it is your stubbornness that won't let him go and he gives in and softens and takes the extra time. And then gives the extra time to the rest of us too. It's wonderful to watch. You sing and make up songs, and when your favorite song comes on the kitchen radio, you RUN in and dance your heart out. It's infectious. As is your joy. But look out if we should cross you. I love you more with every passing day. I am glad you were born, sweet boy.
Love always,
Mama
