"Every day in every way, it's getting better and better; beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy" ~ John Lennon
My fiery, strong-willed, goofy, stubborn yet sensitive Q. You are 23 months old today. This means we've had almost 2 years to get to know each other. From sleepy, suckling newborn to smiley, stationary baby to late-blooming toddler who is becoming very much a little guy-guy (as T would say). From laid-back, roll-with-the-punches young woman to head-spinning, lovesick, lunatic of a mama. My, how we've grown in such a short time.
Recently, T and I cut your hair. Well, we attempted to. T ended up buzzing all of your hair off, while I hyperventilated across the room. We aged you three years with that cut. Suddenly, we lived with this little boy who talked like a baby. I guess we thought you were up to the challenge -- as if your height didn't make it hard enough for you at the playground. But at least now you're a Brad Pitt/Jason Bourne hybrid, making all the girlies swoon.
You're a tough guy. But you're also so tender. Like one of those Sour Patch Kids. Cuddle-time has increased lately, much to my absolute delight. Those are the fleeting moments I know I have to hold tight to. To keep the soft feel of your small, slightly pudgy hands and your warm, doughy scent in my memory. A place to go when I'm not appreciating you enough.
|Stop photo-bombing me, Meem!|
The holiday season is so much brighter this year, thanks to you. You're in awe of our Christmas tree and make a fuss if the lights aren't plugged in. Last year the presents intrigued you -- mainly the ribbons and the boxes, but this year I know it will be excitement galore. Your face will light up much brighter than our tree when you walk into the living room on Christmas morning. Then you will tear open the wrapping to reveal special surprises. "Mo'?" Yes, there's more.
In a month's time we will be celebrating the big 2 years! I plan to bake you your first chocolate cake. I plan to bring all of your favorite people together. I plan to pat myself on the back and cry and hope for many more birthdays with you healthy, laughing, loving.
But for now, it's your month day, Quincy. The last one I will write about. Happy 23 Month Day!