I'm fairly certain that I just wrote a letter for your first birthday, so I find it baffling that we celebrated your second birthday this month. Nothing speeds the clock like motherhood apparently. It's also baffling that I loved you so much at your first birthday, when of course I now know that I couldn't possibly have loved you as much as I do today, right now.
You are such a remarkable little person. I am completely charmed by your toddler grasp of the English language. I love that you call your diaper rash, "ouchie pokies." I love that you carefully arrange your blocks in a row and screech, "all aboard everybody!" I love that you say "mommy" more than any other word or phrase. I love that you speak in the third person when you feel very strongly about the topic. I love how you announce your actions with joyful pride, "I run, I run! I laugh, I laugh! I jump, I jump!"
Your feet are still sweet little sausages without arches or ankles, retaining that baby look that I adore. How amazing that you can tell me what you want for lunch, but you still would rather nurse before naptime. That you can put on your own rain boots, but still wear footie pajamas to bed. Or that you can pedal a tricycle with feverish abandon, but still nestle your downy head into the crook of my neck when you've had enough.
You are such a happy child. I treasure your smile and I feel so lucky that you share it with me and the world so frequently. Keep giving that smile away, whether or not it is reciprocated. You have a limitless supply that only increases its strength and power with use.
When the house becomes suspiciously quiet, I know that you are either engaged in toddler hijinks (putting plastic hot dogs in the fish tank, coloring the cat with markers, riding Mabel, or carefully applying eye cream to your bellybutton) or you are sitting on the floor with a book in your lap. I love to watch your brow furrow in concentration as you pore over the pictures, quietly muttering to yourself. I hope you remain a reader. The escape provided by words cannot be duplicated with electronics. And readers have interesting opinions.
I'm your mom, so I love to give you advice, count your vegetable intake, and imagine you reading these letters as a well-adjusted adult. You will probably wipe away a little tear, pick up the phone, and thank me for my love, guidance, wisdom, and... control issues? Maybe I should thank you too.
Thank you for teaching me to ignore the steaming dirty diaper hamper and sit on the floor to build, play, or read. Thank you for reminding me to dance at least twice a day. Your slightly demanding, "mommy dance!" never fails to bring a smile to my face and a shuffle to my feet. Thank you for helping me stop, slow down, and take the time to find the perfect leaf in the giant pile of nearly identical leaves.
You're amazing. I love you every inch of you. Forever, for always, no matter what.
Happy 2nd birthday.
Mommy
