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hey kid - little boy. almost 2 year old. yah, you:

first time in a booster. ever. you're huge here.

you're almost two years old, and there are more and more moments each day where i see a little boy more than i see a baby. it is... sad. and amazing at the same time. you are coming into your own more and more. you surprise us everyday with something new - new words, a new expression, a new obsession. you are a big kid. a brother. you have a personality. it's weird.

you are silly. you are full, i mean like really full, of energy. when you run, your hair moves now. ya, you have hair. and we aren't cutting it. for a really long time. even though it's taking a turn for the mullet. (you're dad cut, what he says to be, a verry small amount off your bangs because you had this dangler of a strand and it actually got stuck in your eye. he didn't tell me. i noticed and kind of freaked out. well, really freaked out. then he told me the story. and lucky for him (and his you know what) he kept the strand he cut and i got a grip. you'll learn this about me. i need to get a "grip" at leeeeeeeast once a week day.)

you are passionate. aka - you scream a lot. and i know you do it to annoy me. it really annoys me. i turn into a giant red button when you do it and you push me, hard. verrrry hard sometimes.

we're learning a lot together these days. this maternity leave has meant more for you and i then it has for your sister and i sometimes. we needed this time together. like, bad. i missed you, kid. really missed you. and i'm in love with all things "hyatt" - that's how you say your name right now. your little language is better than hot brownies with ice-cream. water is "halo", "meal man" is milk man, "ali" is for ali du and maddie, "mama" is for me and gramma, "mommy" is for me and grammy. i'm your translator. "cacton" is paxton. "kaaaa" is car. "bean" is ben. i could go on and on.

you're almost 2. two. years. two years old. i'm getting my head around this so i am not a basket case on your actual birthday. i think i am going to be like this every year around this time. even when you're about to turn 50 and i am an old hag celebrating my 80th the week prior. i think you were born a week after my birthday to take the pressure off me getting older. i kind of look right past my old ass taking on another candle and hone in on yours. with me?

you're more than with me. you're stuck with me. like white on rice. (rice - another fave of yours these days.)

xoxo, times infinity.