A Milestone Birthday

Perhaps before his birthday month is over, I should pay a little tribute to the best baby ever, who is now two. Yes, feel for me. A Mr Destructo and a 2-year-old. I am equally thrilled. This one hits. And bites when provoked. And is 32 pounds, putting him in the same weight range as his older brother. Watch out Mr D.

But, he's still a sweet little S-man.

Here's to the little man who decided to be born in his own overdue time, just like his mother.

And like his mother, he multitasks the very same way.

Yes, we're rudesbees and talk while we eat. Literally. If you hear a muffled, shouted "four" during mealtime hear at circus town, watch out. Bring protective goggles.

To the little S-man,

who gets to share his birthday with his uncle.

Who slept 12 hours a night at four weeks old and not only didn't stop,

but still lurches for his bed when tired.

Who likes to pretend to be a dog with big sister

and play cars and trains with big brother.

Who makes impressive sound effects when he runs into things.

Who gives spontaneous hugs and kisses--

on the lips, of course.

Even with a very runny nose.

Who says plenty of real words,

but talks in grunts

when you want to have a real conversation.

Who could "pound it" and give high fives almost before you could walk.

Who tries, pretty successfully to keep up with brother and sister.

Who has liked to jump on the tramp almost since you could walk.

Who is already a big helper

and puts things away,

and makes sure the dishwasher door

can hold 32 pounds worth of dishes.

Who calls Grandpa--and Grandma--"papa".

Who can out eat mom with chocolate.
And asks for cheeeese and hot dog and nana all day.

Oh, and bapples (which are apples...or grapes...or strawberries)(?!).

Who cannot wait until you're tall enough to get water out of grandma's refrigerator door by yourself and has tried every toy shaped like a cup to get it yourself, but none have been big enough.

Who is a Soyzilla,

and climbs onto the table during meals,

explicitly to beg food from mom

and scoot around on your bottom creating havoc.

Who tries to beg food from strangers at the park with your winsome looks.

Who likes to have your hair done--

and brings the water and got2bglued to mom

when you think it needs to be done.

Who chooses Grandpa over Grandma,

but Mom over Dad.

Who likes to rock it on the drums.

And throw any size or shape of ball, whether inside or out,

after smacking it with one hand while holding it with the other,

just like a man.

At least you warn us, by saying "ball" before you throw it.

Who likes going down the big slides by yourself at the park,

or sliding down the legs of unsuspecting couch-sitting victims.

Who likes to (try to) steal whole balls of cookie dough off the tray while mom's trying to fill it.

And lick the spoon when she's done.

Who likes to play in the mud holes Mr D makes.

Who likes to sing and dance.

And does some rockin' head banging when the beat is right.

Who likes to wear your red crocs all the time--even to bed.

And who likes to wear everyone else's shoes too--especially mom's.

Who is still a cuddlebug.

And who usually greets mom in the morning and after naps

with a big smile,

big "Mommeeee!"

and jumping up and down in your crib.

Who's always full of laughs and big smiles.

and who sucks his thumb and rubs his hair when he's tired.

And millions of other things I can't think of right now.

Happy Birthday, little prince.

(yeesh, ignore the umbilical cord--i don't know photoshop. nor have it.)

Don't be fooled.

See? Even the S-man already knew better.

I think his one day of life was flashing before his eyes.