Yesterday you turned twenty-eight months old.
You are a rock star. A stud, rapscallion and scamp. You are a one-man circus. A comedian. You are a world full of love stuffed tight in a disheveled little body. You are both Cooper and Steere. You are a hungry billy goat, a filthy little rabbit and an adorable bear cub all rolled in one. You are a perfect set of lips attached to 32 pounds of pure exuberance. You are mine.
You are also TWO. You have been repeating the phrase “I want juice box” over and over and over for the last ten minutes in a high-pitched whine that makes me feel violent. Everything is YOURS and you will fight for it. You have opinions. Strong ones. You are destructive. You break toys, furniture and appliances on a daily basis. You spit on me. You are still mine.
You are creative, defiant and messy.
You are sweet and earnest.
You are expressive and hilarious.
You roll like a BOSS.
And you complete our little family.
Thank you for another adventure-filled month!