we had a birthday party for him the Sunday before and invited way too many people for a two year old party. we bought him a 14ft trampoline because our main goal every single day is to make him as tired as possible, which in recent months has proven to be nearly impossible. the trampoline was a big hit at the party.
|we obviously abide by the 'one person jumps at a time' rule|
we only played one game which was the pinata...which was also a big hit.
two feels vastly different from one. Like one was light years ago. right before we sang happy birthday at the party, I suddenly realized that I was sitting with Grey for just about the first time during the party. he had been playing with his friends the whole time while I bumbled about and made sure people had drinks and introduced family and friends to each other. when he was one he didn't really play with his friends. actually when he was one he didn't really even know his friends; they were just other small beings placed near him occasionally. And now only a year later, he had celebrated his party by actually playing with friends and not his mumma. i'm telling you, light years have passed.
at two, Grey is a walking oxymoron. One moment he has no control over his body, so much so that he is half running - half flailing into the tv stand with his forehead four hours before we get professional pictures taken (thank you, photoshop). The next minute he is shooting his mini basketball at the hoop that is twice as high as it should be for a toddler and swishing baskets 5 and 6 times in a row like he's been an old pro at the game for years now.
One minute he's dropping dry dog food one by one into the water dish pushing me ever closer to a full out fit of frustrated hysterics. the next minute he's sitting in his car seat melting my poor little heart into mush by asking me, "mumma, hold hands?" with the sweetest little smile you've ever seen on a cherub's face.
we went to the doctor for his 2 year well check- up and he had to get a booster vaccine. I kept saying, "okay, we're just going to get a little poke now and then we'll be done." Grey said, "okay, little poke!" The nurse told me to hold his arms down and I waited for the yelp that never came. In and out went the needle, on went the band-aid and all Grey said was, "Mumma, poke hurts" and he didn't even say that until after the nurse left for fear that he'd hurt her feelings. Less than an hour later, I was dropping him off at day care (which we only just started this week as I'm back to work from maternity leave) and he had a hold of my neck and was crying with all he had inside that two year old body.
at two, being separated from me hurts him worse than a needle.
this both breaks my heart and mends it at the same time.
because someday, probably too soon for me, he won't feel this way anymore.
but i always will.
happy birthday, my first baby.
i love you forever.