Two Years

"She's two."

Over the past month it seems as though we've been answering a lot of questions with the same answer: she's two.

Q: Why is she rolling around in the floor like an epileptic over a blue Dora Cup?

A: She's two.

Q: Why is she making a sound that is strikingly similar to Chewy from Star Wars?

A: She's two.

Q: Why does she insist that a school bus is white when she knows darn well that it's yellow?

A: SHE'S TWO!

Well today Little Bit you really are two. 731 days old. Wow, when you think about it like that, we haven't even broken a thousand yet! Everyone has been warning us about the terrible twos. Well I've got news for them, I think we've already been there and we're still there. I don't think our old friend Sigmund Freud could analyze or even begin to understand the logic behind your two year old brain. Sometimes it's quite hilarious and your daddy and I will find ourselves telling anyone who will listen wacky stunts that you've pulled. Other times we wonder how Jeffrey Dahmer acted when he was two. Were there signs that he was going to be completely nuts and literally eat finger sandwiches for a snack?

You aren't anything if your aren't extreme and a chorus of contrasts (oooo that's deep, go mama). Happy as a clam one minute, tears steaming down your face the next. Miss Independent on Monday and totally and completely depending on us for everything on Tuesday. My best friend in the word, to if I had to guess, putting me in the same class as the Wicked Witch of the West and the Butcher of Baghdad.

It seems as though I've been waiting since the day you were born to turn two. When you're two you can do gymnastics. When you're two you can wear big girl undies. When you're two, you can sleep in a big girl bed. But now that you actually are two, I find myself thinking back to the tiny baby that you were. Five pounds and fifteen ounces. How was I to know then what an amazing little 2 year old you would become. How was I to know that you would love to sing more than anything in the world. Or be known for your pigtails. Or make me laugh every single day of my life.

Over night it's as if you turned into a big kid. Saying complete sentences, using the potty. You know what cracks us up? You'll concentrate so hard to learn a new song or steps to a dance. But when anyone tires to teach you colors or anything that doesn't go to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle or sung by the Fab Four of the Wiggles you get pissed. And I use such a strong word because that is the exact emotion that exudes from your little body. 

You've given us another wonderful year. One that has kept us in stitches with laughter and one that's made your daddy loose some hair and me to gain some gray. Life sure is different with a toddler compared to baby. But we wouldn't have it any other way. "We love this crazy tragic, sometimes  almost magic, awful beautiful life." 

(details on the little shin-dig to come!)