Friday, February 14, 2014

Dibbs: Two Years

My baby. We decided you were terribly two about two months ago, but as of yesterday, you are official.

You are absolutely adibbable.
You are lovey, huggable, incredibly thoughtful. You are everyone's friend and Mommy's little helper, standing at the sink washing dishes (which is really just filling cups of water and dumping them).

Your favorite toys are all things Monster [monter!] or Robot [obot]: your new Yo Gabba Gabba toys holding the top spot at the moment. [Ghee Gabba]. You also still love your container of Pom Poms and your Team Umizoomi figures, and all the toys that go along with Pixar movies. Nemo, Monsters Inc, Toy Story. Mike and Sully. Bot and Buzz Lightyear and Rex [Wek]. You love to make characters fly and talk and zoom and bounce.

You are generally so easy-going (remember when I thought we would never get there?). At least if Mama is in sight. When we have left you with a sitter or in the nursery (on our cruise vacation), you have had the sweetest, saddest peculiar habit of crying even while you play.

"Um, Mrs. Lee, [Dibbs] won't stop crying...but, we think he's okay, he's happily playing with a toy right now...he just won't stop crying."

"Yeah, Mel, it was so weird. He cried, but he just kept playing."
You're saying "Two" here. Also, you tried to eat the flame.
Mom and Dad love you so much, little guy. When you smile at me, you break through whatever thought I was trying to think and all I can do is grin back at you and kiss that fantabulous face. You take us by the hands and beg to be swung "3-4-5? 3-4-5? [we acquiesce] Again! [we fall for it]"
Your giggle fits are infectious. This morning, your daddy said we needed a basket of puppies to unleash on you. It would be the cutest giggles ever. Your sister loves to make you laugh. You try to mimic everything she does (please don't do this - she's crazy!).
Your favorite food is Purdue GF chicken strips. And you still love Cheetos. You also enjoy French fries, jelly beans, raisins, marshmallows, yogurt melts. Apples, bananas, potato chips, apple juice. For breakfast every morning, you get a small bowl of goldfish crackers [fuh-fuhs]. You do not like to get your hands dirty. "Please hold this slice of pizza while I suck on it, thanks."
We thought you'd never take up solid food, but baby-led weaning was the right choice for you. You took it up when you were ready. And you will stop nursing when you're ready.
You're not ready. You fall asleep in my arms every night and for your daily nap, too. You don't like me to try to slip away, but I do. It's when I can focus on Sister or actually sit at my computer without nursing.
You're a big boy though. Ready to move on up to 3T clothing. You love your red Mickey crocs. You sleep in them and you've been known to wake up in the night and put them back on if Mommy slips them off. You're starting to look like a big kid already.
You think the cat is hilarious. Sitting there being a cat like that. Hilarious.

Your vocabulary grows everyday and you're much more comfortable with phrases and sentences than your sister was at 2.
"Where'd it go?"
"Bye bye, Nana!"
"Oh no! My shoe! We 'tuck!"
You're figuring out this crazy, beautiful world.

I love your voice. So much higher than Sister's. So much exploration and range. You know that words have power and you love to sing to yourself. You like the song "Let it Go" from Frozen and walk around singing it with your arms stretched out behind you. You still like Twinkle Twinkle. You are in love with guitars. You "to'ally wock."
People who thought they knew tried to warn me about what having a little boy would be like, but there is no madness, no roughness about you. You are gentle and curious, affectionate and careful. You will be kind. You will be a really good friend.
You are not a monster truck. Just a little monster. And you brought what was missing to our family. We love you, Bubba.

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