2

We haven't celebrated or done his birthday photo shoot yet, but as I planned what I would write about my little dumpling turning two last weekend, I was struck with the phrase, "Say it ain't so!" I was thinking about how I really didn't want him to grow up.

Then I went to Goodwill to find a few Halloween costume accessories. And I happened to find a perfect bike for Luke. Have you ever heard a gigantic 1.99 year old wail over the fact that his brother is getting a bike and he is not? No? I don't think any of the patrons or employees had either, based on their facial expressions.

I started pushing my cart around looking for where you drop off donations, and was going to ask the cashier but could tell right away they weren't interested in reselling any screaming children.



That boy is stubborn. The climbing-out-of-the-crib soap opera continues. We moved on to the doorknob contraption, which only took him about 3 minutes to totally disassemble. Now we are back to the jump rope.

I know, I know, "Give it up!" you say. "He has probably outgrown his nap," you say. But he hasn't. He's still crazy tired in the afternoon and sleeps for about 3 hours once he finally stops fighting it. I'm not about to give it up. For him it's not even about the sleep, it's about getting his way. I will win this war! I can't make him sleep, but there will be quiet time in our house. Even if I can hear him yelling from down here.

"Buuuuzzzzzzzzzz!"


"Woooooooeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy!"


Buzz and Woody, as in Buzz Lightyear and Woody from Toy Story. The boy is absolutely obsessed. He loves Woody like Luke loves fans.

He takes any opportunity to sneak into the garage, get in the van, and push the button on the sun visor to raise and lower the garage door. Which will all be fine and good until he drives the car into the kitchen.



Like some sort of subconscious reaction, when we say our family prayer each night, he takes his cue to tackle people. And we might have a future offensive lineman on our hands, because he can take you down! Really, and especially if your eyes are closed. It's like you never saw it coming. Now I feel like I have to pray with one eye open.

He has strong opinions about what songs we listen to in the car. Fireflies is #1 on his billboard.

He has words for everything and insists that you repeat what he says so he can verify that a) you are paying attention and b) you understand what he said. The problem with that is, we can't understand half of what he is talking about. And he lets us know that he is angry about it in some very demonstrative ways.

If you cross him, which you are likely to do if, you don't understand him, you tell him "no", you don't give into his never ending requests for food (samich! ot dog! abble!), etc, etc, etc. then you can watch the anger flash across his face while his eyes scan the vicinity for things to mess up.

When he's angry he rakes everything off of the table, he runs for any open container of liquid to dump it on the floor, he searches for things to throw.

Maybe not wanting him to grow up, isn't quite right. Getting past the two's seems like a really good game plan.

Have I painted a negative picture of my little love bunny? I hope not. Because he is literally one of the cutest little people I've ever met.

He loves to do anything the big kids are doing. He's been getting on and off the trampoline by himself for a few months now. And he can do most of the stuff Luke does at the play ground.

He loves nursery and talks about the "bubbles" there, all week.

He calls Ava, "Avy" and it just about makes my heart turn into jelly every time.

He loves his daddy, and he loves me too. I'd even venture to say that I'm not in second place anymore. Or maybe it's a really close second.

He says "you" for "I love you".

He gives hugs and kisses that knock our socks off.

He loves looking at books.

He loves animals.

His laugh is infectious!

He loves construction sites and eagerly anticipates seeing a "deeger" (digger).

Coloring has become one of his favorite activities.

He loves, loves, loves to play and wrestle with the his siblings.

And for every ounce of stubborn anger, he compensates with a pound of sweetness.

See, not wanting him to grow up seems an appropriate reaction to the summary above, right?. So which is it? I don't know, grow up? Stay little? I'm thinking I better just try to enjoy the ride.




My house kind of looks like it threw up right now. I'm redoing the toy room so everything in there has been relocated to the living room so I could paint the walls. Tons of frames are stacked on the dining room table waiting for paint, furniture is sitting in strange places waiting to be put back, sold, or put in the garage.

In the midst of all this, I propped a large mirror up against the wall. It got moved here and there and somewhere along the way my mom and I commented how awesome that mirror was. I seriously loved it. It had a very simple frame and it was old and heavy. It's reflection and light was so beautiful and my mom told me that it was because it was very old (she gave it to me) and that you can't hardly buy mirror like that anymore, it's glass was so thick. Notice my use of the past tense.

October 29, I heard a crash from where I stood in the kitchen. I ran to the toy room expecting to see the ironing board collapsed, instead I saw this.

My favorite, beautiful, antique, gigantic mirror shattered,


courtesy of my delightsome, bright, adorable, spirited 2 year old. "Happy Birthday!" I thought, "In honor of your day I am going to let you live!"

Just kidding.

I was a little sick about the mirror for a few days, though. I was glad that Max wasn't hurt. The whole situation could have been avoided, if not for my carelessness.


Enjoy the ride. I really couldn't love my little Max anymore than I do right now.


I may be run ragged by him and it goes against all common superstitions, but I feel lucky everyday to have that boy for a son. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel that way for the next 7 million years.