I officially have a two year old. I’m in a little bit of shock how quickly it’s come around – he’s no longer my teeny tiny baby, dependent on me for absolutely everything. Still a short arse, just one with a big personality and an independent mind. It doesn’t feel like a whole two years have passed since the day he was born.
There has been cake. There have been balloons. I’m doubting he gets the whole concept of birthdays, but he certainly seems to be enjoying himself. Let’s not talk about the overexcited getting sick shortly after the cake eating fun (that might or might not be down to the MANY circles he ran around in excited by the balloons). The jelly boats made by Granny (apparently a family tradition on his Daddy’s side) were definitely a highlight though.
The cake was a homemade chocolate creation, made all the lovelier with the smarties on top – it went down a treat, if I say so myself.
My little man loves his books, his farm animals, his tractor and above all, his fire engines. Paw Patrol rules the roost around here. He’s a fun little dude, full of energy and charisma – mad to say hello to everyone he passes, and flirting with the ladies already to boot. His words are becoming more numerous, more clear, and he is much more sure of them – he makes sure we understand exactly what he is saying! I’ve never loved anyone as much in my life, even if 90% of my day is spent answering the now incessant “Mam.Mam.Mam” chanting from him. Even on the most frustrating of days, the bedtime cuddles can make it all better.
Happy birthday my little man. Hello Two.