Dearest James,

You are two years old.

I will start out this post the same way I start out all the birthday posts,  by saying how quickly your first two years have come and gone. Probably because there were two of you, and I seemed to be always running after someone, cleaning someone, feeding someone, getting someone dressed, or rocking someone to sleep. I hope I haven’t missed too much. I hope there weren’t many times when you were trying to show me what you can do, and I was too busy to see.

You look just like your sister.

People always ask me, “is he ever unhappy?” Yes, you are, but not very often. Your smile cracks me up. It just radiates happiness. It is one of my favorite things about you.

You love the moon. You love trains and trucks and airplanes and motorcycles and the Count from Sesame Street. Your favorite thing to do is to go look at construction sites with your Dad.

You roll with the punches like a boss. You are ok to stay out past your bedtime, ok with being carted around on errand after errand, and you were a champ at the movies and at a seemingly never-ending Disney on Ice show.

You say so much. “Again” is your favorite word. When you hear a siren you say “Quick! Quick!” and point to the window. This means, we are supposed to pick you up and run to the closest window so you can see whatever emergency vehicle is speeding by. When we are in the parking lot, you always yell “Watch out! Cars!” in a tone that is very familiar and which I can only assume is mine.

You still like your sleep. You go to bed around 7 or 7:30 and usually wake up between 7 or 8. Occasionally, you’ll sleep till 9 or 10.

Your favorite books are Choo Choo, Katy, The Polar Express, Pout Pout Fish, and My First 100 Trucks.

You LOVE cheese. For the past couple of weeks that is all I can get you to eat consistently. Mealtimes are not fun right now.

You love your swimming lessons. You often push the  other kids, and sometimes the teacher, out of the way so you can get to the slide first. So unlike your mother, but I like your grit. Please hold on to a little bit of this.

Reese’s school may be one of your favorite places.When we pick her up in the afternoon and she heads down the hallway with her little friends, you are always running behind the pack, barely mobile in your massive winter coat, laughing your head off. If you could talk I think you would be saying. “Look at me! I’m one of the kids!”

You are mischievous, but your sister is a tattletale, so you don’t get very far in your endeavors before she is reporting to me, “James is STANDING on the coffee table!”

You are a momma’s boy and I love that.

You are in awe of your big sister and you are quickly learning how to push her buttons, as little brothers do.

Cheers to two years!