I love that your nickname is Peanut, because you are so big. So. Big. Your head was so big when you were born that it was too big to come out of me, which was really impressive since I had already birthed your brothers. You were one big baby, kid. And now you’re an even bigger two year old.
You were–and are–so beautiful. And the thing is, seeing as how you are my last baby (I’m pretty sure, but don’t quote me on that), it is sort of insane to me that you are two, because you weren’t supposed to grow up. You were supposed to be my baby forever.
But two really isn’t a baby anymore, is it?
You terrify me with how charming you are. Even after you throw everything that I painstakingly cooked for you on the floor, I can’t be mad at you when you sit there with your bowl on your head. That is funny stuff, kid. I worry that you will be able to get out of anything with your charm–but don’t be too perturbed. That’s also a source of pride for me.
You say so much now, although I admit to relief when you punctuate it when your baby babble. “Gah-GAH!” you scream, when you are angry at what I do. “Ba ba ba!” you laugh, as you hit me in the head (that’s not cool, bro). And then come the words. “Mama KEY!” “BOOM!” “Stairs!” “WANT DIS!”
Want dis. Can you please stop following me to the pantry and saying that? I am more than happy to share my chocolate with you. I just don’t want to share with your brothers, so if you don’t let them know, they will never find out.
And then there’s your smile. Your messy blond (how did we wind up with a blond kid?) hair. The sparkle in your eyes which so closely mirror my own. The joy you put into EVERYTHING–when you go down the slide, when you walk down the stairs, when you play, when you laugh, when we read books. I love how you open my hands to place books in them. I love how we read the same freaking books over and over and over again.
I love you.
I look at you every day and think what a blessing you are, and how much richer and fuller you have made our lives. I had no idea I needed you as much as I do.
Always, always, my baby.