You're such a boy. Every time you emit a gas from the, um, lower half of your person, you giggle and say 'toot'. Actually you say 'too' because you still insist on ignoring the last letters on 99% of all words. And every time you cough, you say 'bo' [bone] because I've always asked you if you're choking on a bone. And now you just go ahead and tell me that yes, in fact, you ARE choking on a 'bo'. And finally, every time you pitch a fit, you roll your shoulders roll forward, get a grouchy look on your face and say 'pow' [pout]. It's so nice of you to let us know what you're doing. And when I ask you if you are, indeed, pouting (because pouting is a big ol' no-no in our house), you un-roll your shoulders and say "No, nuh uh!"
I've stopped putting you in the shopping cart when we go grocery shopping. You insist that you want to 'wah' [walk], so I oblige. And since we live in a city that has a really small population and since we usually go grocery shopping at 8am during the week when there are only a handful of (usually elderly) people in the store, it's not a big deal. It's a good learning experience for you. You're learning to stay by me and you're learning the consequence of not staying by me (going back into the shopping cart - and it's only taken one time of going back into the cart for you to learn to stay by me). We usually start by looking at the toys for a while. You're now to the point that you don't (usually) pitch a fit when we leave the toy section; you even holler "Goodbye" to the toys as we leave. Side note: It seems that toys are getting creepier and creepier as time goes on, so I fully expect that in a few years, they'll say "Bye" right back to you.
You're highly annoyed that Daddy and me switch off reading you bedtime stories. If it were up to you, Daddy would do it 100% of the time. Alas, you get stuck with me 50% of the time. I can usually distract you with a Richard Scarry book (because looking for Goldbug is *almost* as fun as Daddy is), but when it comes time to put you in your crib, you poke out your bottom lip all pitiful-like and wail for Daddy. It doesn't hurt my feelings one bit. Excuse me while I go sob in the corner.
Daddy and I are debating on when to move you to a toddler bed. That we have hardwood floors in our rental house makes me worried that you're going to break your neck if you try to climb out of your crib. It took (what felt like) forEVER to get your sister to stop getting out of her bed once we switched her to a toddler bed. Many nights, I stopped counting at 50 for the number of times I put her back in her bed. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. It was rough, but there wasn't another Smithkid to worry about. With you, if you decide to pull the same antics, you could easily wake up your sister (or just generally freak her out with your noise). And if that happens? Two unhappy Smithkids makes this momma cuh-RAZY. You just may be the weirdo who goes to college in a crib.
I'm flabbergasted that you're two today. You've been excited for weeks about having cake. And pizza. If you'll be 1/10 as excited for your train table as you are for your Carb-a-Palooza lunch, I'll feel like a million bucks. Or just surprise me with one of your awesome spontaneous leg hugs and cheek kisses and I'll feel like a million bucks. You are scrumptious, my sweet Bear. Let's rock this thing, Year Three.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy.
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Headlines for November 9, 2013:
- Philippines tallies the damage after 'most powerful storm ever' kills at least seven
- Why do JFK conspiracy theories endure?
- Obama administration report details cost of last month's shutdown
- 'It gives me strength': Dancing double mastectomy patient inspires others
- Boy's bone marrow transplant wiped out cancer -- and his peanut allergy
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