Wednesday, September 8, 2010
My little boy is 2.
Time freaking flies.
He is smart, so so smart. He's a sponge. He is a talker (wonder where he gets it?!?!). He's funny. He's adventurous and afraid of nothing. He doesn't love to have his hands dirty (which I'm cool with). He's little (odd given the size of his parents). He's kind. He's polite. He loves Elmo, Mickey, Handy Manny, and Little Einsteins. He has no idea who Thomas the Train is. If it has wheels on it he's instantly in love. He's a repeater. He can count to 20 in English, 10 in Spanish and knows the alphabet (none of which he will do on command). He can point out a cockatoo and knows that the beach is a habitat. He knows every word to the book "Elmo Loves You". He loves to give and get zerberts. He knows where his sister is and includes her in his conversations. He is the most amazing miracle.
Don't you worry. There's more. Remember, I celebrate imperfection.
When he's mad, he smacks me in the face. He kicks the dog on occassion. 'Mine' is his favorite word. He's not the best listener when he doesn't want to listen (and his hearing is phenomenal). He and I can't shop together because I can't keep up. He does not ride in shopping carts. He won't sit in a high chair. We've really given up on eating out at least temporarily.
And I'm ok with every single bit of this. He's 2. And no one's perfect. But he's pretty damn close.
The Best part? Zerberts. And he's ours.