Saturday, November 09, 2013

Year Two - Year End Review

Oh my sweet, little pumpkin-headed Bear,

My goodness, you delight me. I can't believe you've dimpled up Team Smith for two whole years; it seems like it was only yesterday I was worried that you were going to be born in my van.

10 Things You're Good At:
  1. Sleeping. Thankfully, you rarely put up much of a fuss. When I tell you it's naptime, most of the time you yell 'BYE!' to Nat, grab a random toy (to add to the 833 already in your crib) and run down the hall to your room.
  2. Making other people around smile (this is a trait you inherited from Daddy. It's like you two just bring sunshine wherever you go.)
  3. Driving your sister bananas. 
  4. Speaking of bananas, eating bananas. You eat a banana so quickly, you should be a sideshow act. 
  5. Making an entrance into a room. When we drop Natalie off at school, you walk in and cheerfully holler "Hi!" to all the kids in her class and wave to everyone, too. When we leave, you holler "Bye!", wave, and blow kisses to everyone. The little girls in Natalie's class think you're adorable. 
  6. Climbing. You can climb stairs and into the van and up into your carseat like a champ. 
  7. Being funny. You caught on quickly that we here at Team Smith run on silliness. Being all stoic and dull just won't cut it around here.
  8. Building towers out of blocks.
  9. Dancing. Clearly you and your sister inheirited your Daddy's wicked dance skillz.
  10. Being a mimic. You repeat sounds and words (and whines ...) like a champ.

10 Things You're NOT Good At:
  1. Eating non-beige foods. Could you just for once, just for kicks, just on a goof, eat something orange or something green? I promise you won't die. 
  2. Helping me fold clothes. Your version of helping involves running around the living room with undies and towels on your head.
  3. Being still and/or quiet during diaper changes. I submit giving an enema to a lion is on par with changing your diapers. As is giving you a bath.
  4. Behaving in a restaurant. I distinctly remember this phase with Natalie. You don't want to sit in your chair, you get mad when we won't let you wander around the restaurant - and couple this with you being a picky eater and we have ourselves an unpleasant evening. It helps that Marianna isn't the mecca for fine-dining establishments, so it's not like we have the opportunity to GO to nice restaurants anyway.
  5. Sharing. Whoever said that "second children are just born having to share; they don't know any different!" is a certifiable crackhead. You haaaate sharing. You haaaate taking turns.
  6. Letting me pick out your clothes. Dude, you're two. And dude, you're a dude. Why must you have such strong opinions on what clothes you wear?
  7. Sitting in your carseat for a long car ride. You get antsy and crabby after about 20 minutes. 
  8. Sleeping in. You're a good sleeper, but you're allergic to sleeping past 6. (ps: I hate you, Fall Back. That extra hour of sleep [that I didn't get anyway] was so not worth messing up both Smithkids' sleep schedules.)
  9. Spelling. Natalie is a great speller but still needs help on some big words. It'd be awfully nice of you if you'd learn how to spell big words and help her out.

10 Things You Love:
  1. Animals in theory 
  2. Playing on the bed with Natalie and Daddy after Daddy gets home from work
  3. Trucks and trains and cars and planes (hey look, that rhymes!)
  4. Books
  5. Dairy products (yogurt, cheese, milk, and ice cream)
  6. Sports. You lose your mind when you see a basketball, football, baseball, or soccer ball. You could sit on Daddy's lap and watch football for hours.
  7. Mickey Mouse
  8. Riding your bike (and by 'Riding your bike', I mean 'Being pushed around in your bike by Mommy or Daddy')
  9. Ice water (ice-less water is always met with a loud and insistent "EYE-SH!!" [ICE]
  10. Bubble Guppies

5 Things You Don't Love (you're good-natured; I could only think of 5 things):
  1. Animals in real life (I get it; we don't have pets, so when you see a real-life dog up close, it understandably freaks you out)
  2. Baths.  Two years going strong. You're certainly a stubborn (and loud) thing.  
  3. Healthy food (except for the aforementioned dairy products)
  4. Being bossed around by Natalie. Which is unfortunate because it's on Natalie's 10 Things She Loves list.
  5. Loud noises. It's a Smithkid tradition.

Oh my. The difference between 12 months and 24 months is staggering. You went from a crawling and cruising little dude to a walking and running little Energizer Bunny. You went from someone who just said 'Dadda' to someone who says mouthfuls of words. You went from someone who charmed people with his two-toothed smile to someone who charms people with his ten-toothed smile (your award for Slowest Tooth Grower in the History of Earth is in the mail). You went from someone who ate anything and everything to someone who prefers to only eat food that resembles the color of a manila envelope (not cool; let's work on that in Year Three, shall we?). You went from someone who was only just discovering how to have a relationship with Natalie to someone who has definitely found his niche with his sister. And it's glorious (for the most part).

You're funny. You're observant. You're charming. You're silly. You're excitable. You're affectionate. You're cautious. You're content. (Unless you're teething ... in which case, all the aforementioned characteristics get thrown into a proverbial chipper-shredder). You remind me so much of Daddy. Perhaps that why I cherish the mornings that you and I have to ourselves; it's like I have a miniature version of Daddy to hang out with while he's at work. You say hi to everyone at Winn Dixie, just like Daddy does. You smile extra big at the ladies, just like Daddy does. Your marvelously silly personality leaves me in stitches, just like Daddy does. Just like I said in your Year One recap, this world needs a boy raised by your Daddy. I wasn't wrong. It does. And he's doing such a great job.

You are dimpled goodness, my boy. I pray for you often. One of the (many) devotional books I read talks often of being a thermostat instead of being a thermometer. A thermostat changes the temperature of a room; a thermometer rises and falls with the temperature of a room. I pray you'll be a thermostat. That your warmth and charm will draw people in and draw people to Jesus. That your cheerful light would burn bright in a world full of Gloomy Gusses. Because just like the song says "... hide it under a bushel? No! I'm gonna let it shine!", I pray you shine. Because let's keep it real, my sweet Bear, your head wouldn't fit in a bushel.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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