2

Now that he's two maybe we should stop calling him Lukey.

We've said from its inception that "Lukey" is probably not a name he'd like to be called when he gets older. But despite our not so fervent efforts to stop, Lukey remains.

And so does his delicious sweetness.


And his paci.


And his fun smile.




And his rambunctious boyness.





And his tender heart.



And his figure-things-out mind.




And his soft skin.




And his big baby blues.



And his ability to melt my heart into a big, sloppy puddle of love.


Happy Birthday, to my Sweet Love-Boy!

As I was putting Ava to bed last week, she was telling me about the kind of dream she would like to have that night. Sometimes we talk about the good things she can dream about so she doesn't worry about having bad dreams.

She listed a few possibilities like dreams about candy and ponies. And then she said,

"Mom, I know my best dream. The best dream is when I went to the hospital to meet Wukey when he came out of your tummy."

I couldn't agree more. He is a dream come true.