Thursday, February 18, 2010

Briefing: Terrible Transcendental Twos

February 18, 2009

February 18, 2010

Little Miss Hayden,

You are 2 years old today!

You are a walking, talking, singing, burping, farting mess of a little girl.

Your second year passed me by even quicker than your first year. How is that possible? Will each year feel like it is shorter than the one before it?

You are deeply in love with the Wiggles. They fuel your dancing fire, and when you dance, Hayden, you are on fire!

You have the sweetest most innocent voice.

You flatter me by imitating me.

You say “love you” at bedtime, and well, those words leave me speechless.

You laugh hysterically until you get hiccups and/or puke up the chocolate you just ate while visiting nanny and papaw.

You play hard.

The smell of your hair follows you around. I follow you around too.

On your hands are painted nails, dirt lives in the creases of your palm.

You have perfected what appears to be a gallop crossed with a jump. It is by far your favorite dance move.

Your chipped tooth, I love it.

You have been blessed with fabulous hair. It curls, frizzes, stands on end, never lays flat and slaps me around when I get lippy.

You climb on the couch beside me each night and wiggle your toes around until they find a spot I’ve made warm especially for you.

You are hell-bent on trashing the one nap you allow yourself daily. I am hell-bent on you doing no such thing.

You have two fish, PB and Jay. You love them.

You sneak into the bathroom hoping you’ll find my make up before I find you.

You are so much fun.

You make my life more interesting and full than it has ever been.

You occasionally throw yourself on the floor as a form of self expression.

You scale the confines of your crib in an attempt to show us you can accomplish your goals.

You play the harmonica. The dogs howl. I laugh.

You know a few of the dogs names but refer to all of them as Kiki, she is your favorite.

You pick boogers. You eat them too.

You think it's funny to try and lick your daddy and I when we kiss you good night.

You sleep through the night in the same crib you flee from.

You sleep with daddy and I and creep closer and closer to me until my head is
fighting for just a sliver of the bed.

You high five.

You started school on Monday. You love it!

You know a big bite when you see one. "Big bite, big bite," you repeat as if we aren't listening. Hayden, we hear everything.

"Ready, ready, ready?" You chant this in preparation for jumping off the couch. You repeat this about fifty times a night. Joy!

You are a healthy toddler-tummied 26lbs.

You and Ingrid are going to be tall, you're at 35" right now. Isaiah wasn't tapped with the tall stick, but that's perfectly perfect, he's Isaiah.

You have picked up a sinister laugh. It is brilliant.

You yell "papaw, papaw" as we approach the one red light in his itty-bitty town.

You are mama’s baby.

You are daddy’s girl.

Some days, when I look at you, I see me.

You bring me toilet paper when I am in a "damn, I guess I will have to drip dry" situation.

You are growing up right in front of my eyes, so, so fast. I beg you, please stop!

You go from whiny teenager to innocent child in the blink of an eye.

Your pink and brown blanket is your bff.

You are my sunshine.

I love you with all my heart, and then some.


P.S. Yesterday I was changing your diaper and I noticed what appeared to be a left over wipe in the crack of your ass (daddy!). I used my pointer finger and thumb to extract it. I pulled out a warm, fresh-squeezed turd from your ass instead. There were witnesses!

P.S.S. Please potty train soon...and easily.

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