My dearest, precious boy,
Sometimes I find myself wondering, Gosh, could I love you even more? I know it sounds sappy, but my heart swells when I think of you. You are so sweet and so funny and just seeing your little legs dangle off the chairs in our house sends me into a spin.
And now, you’re 2! Two years of such joy at having you in our lives. Two years of hugs and snuggles. And kisses and smiles.
You’ve started doing this thing where, out of the blue, you shout, “HUG YOU!,” and wrap your arms around my neck (::insert swoon::). If you want a cracker or a piece of cheese, you always ask if Charlie can have one, too. You burrow into my lap when we read books, trying to get as close to me as physics will allow.
Books — you are crazy for them right now. Each night before bed, you choose five books and line them up perfectly on the dresser next to your rocking chair. I tell you we can only read three, but OMG FIVE OF THEM HAVE TO BE UP THERE.
You know many of the words to your favorites books and echo them with such joy and pride. I couldn’t stop laughing earlier this week when we opened to a page with ducks and you squealed “DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” like it was the most exciting moment of your life. I get you; I’m like that around cake.
Your birthday party on Sunday was puzzle-themed, because you’re a bit obsessed with — and good at — them. You finished a 56-piece puzzle at Grandma B’s school with minimal help a few weeks ago, which impressed the heck out of her. She suggested we look beyond our neighborhood preschool when we enroll you in January 2018. #smartkid #proudgrandma
Your vocabulary is stellar, too. You pick up words quickly, like today when I muttered shit under my breath several times before your yearly check-up (I’d forgotten something at home) and you shared your new word with the receptionist. Your name for Charlie has evolved, too; “Doe” turned into “Doe-ee,” which somehow jumped to “Tah-wahls.” Brain development is weird.
Your new favorite question is “Why?” Jack, we have to put on your shoes. Why?! Jack, you have yogurt all over your hair. Why??!?!? When you want to show me something across the room, you grab my hand, matter-of-factly say “Walking,” and off we go.
You’ve discovered garbage trucks, tow trucks, and trains, and now all you want to do is watch YouTube videos on my phone (“Garbage Truck…. Video…. Phone…. Now.”), or play vehicle-themed games on my iPad.
I couldn’t avoid this on a recent airplane trip — your first one! — to and from South Carolina because smartphones/tablets are the universe’s gifts to parents on airplanes. But, you can’t use them on takeoff and landing, which was the worst thing to ever happen to you. And probably the passengers sitting near us.
In general, I’m OK with occasional use of screens, but you can become nutso real quick. You’ll watch a video of garbage trucks for 15-30 seconds, then scream “NOOOOOOOOO!” and demand to see a tow truck. I’ll turn on a tow truck and you’ll demand garbage trucks RIGHT THIS SECOND. I’ve started hiding my phone because ain’t nobody got time for that.
Side note: You mimic Dad and say “ad” every time an advertisement comes on YouTube. His marketer-eyes shine with pride when he hears you. Maybe you two can open an agency one day.
Jack, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be a mom — to both you and Charlie. I thought my heart might burst when you gave each other a big hug the other day while dropping Charlie off at school.
He said, Love you, Jack.
Wuv you, you replied.
I especially love Saturday mornings, when you scramble onto the couch and sit side-by-side to watch “Sesame Street.” When the Letter/Number of the Day songs come on, you both jump up on the cushions and dance like no one can see you. You fall into my lap and we laugh and laugh.
I really couldn’t love you two even more.