Last day as a two year old.

Sad face.

I know, I know. Birthdays, they’re exciting. I’m sure my son is going to be an amazing three year old and the best is yet to come.

But, because I’m me, I need to mourn a little, just as I have with his other birthdays.

Today is our last day with our two year old son. Tomorrow we will wake up to a three year old. We will celebrate the day of his birth. We will go out for ice cream and he will open his presents from us.

Today, I want to soak it all in. I know these changes come slowly and he won’t be all that different tomorrow. Really, just another DAY older than today, even though those numbers signify an entire year.

Here’s my little boy a year ago, at his birthday party. Turning two. Still practically a baby.


He has grown so much since then. Physically. Emotionally. Intellectually. Two weeks after that photo was taken he became a big brother. He’s AMAZING to his sister. I am blown away by it. He has to kiss her before he goes somewhere, before he goes to bed. Today he hugged her and told her that she was his favorite sister. They adore each other and I am so blessed that he has shown very little jealousy and welcomed her into our family with open arms. I know that sounds so cheesy, but it’s true. Literally with open arms, always hugging her, always reaching for her, always loving her.

He is so smart. The things he says are so funny, so intelligent, so quick. He has the best sense of humor. We laugh so much.

He tests me in many ways, but he is teaching me how to be a better mother, a more patient human being, and a more loving woman.

This year has been incredible. Not always easy, but somehow always good. Age two was certainly not “terrible” like so many like to say. Challenging, yes. We are no stranger to fits and tantrums and the word “no.” But two was also sweet and fun and innocent and full of laughs and love and snuggles.

We are spending this day quietly. Reading books. Watching television. Making smoothies (real and pretend). Playing musical instruments. Having an existential crisis over the fact that “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and “The ABCs” have the same tune. Okay, so perhaps quiet wasn’t the right word. Ordinary. Beautifully ordinary.


The kids are napping together now, and then we’ll play outside.

Then, tonight. Tonight I will say goodnight and kiss my two year old one last time. I will cry. That I know. But tomorrow we will be excited and we will celebrate and we will embrace what is yet to come. I know he will continue to amaze me and make my heart swell in so many new and lovely ways.

I love you, sweet boy.


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