Twenty-Three Months

How can you be almost two? How is it possible I'm the young, vibrant, gorgeous mother of an almost two-year old? As we get closer to that life milestone, we find ourselves often wondering, "Why does he do that?" Our typical answer is, "He's two." That buys you a lot of leeway, my little friend. But, I don't recommend trying that answer when your boss asks you why you threw your coffee cup on the meeting room floor when they ran out of cookies at the annual shareholder meeting.

"Umm, I did it because I'm 33."

Seriously, that won't cut it.


Your human-bonding instinct is well intact at this stage, Jack. You have your list of favorite people in your world, and you like to bring them up each day to check whether we plan to see them.

"Aunty?," you inquire, head tilted to the right.

"Nope, not today."

"Leece?," you sweetly say.

"No, she's at school."

"KATIE?" Your eyes grow large and I can tell your heartrate has increased.

"Nope, just mommy today."

"Austin's house?," you plead with puppy-dog eyes.

"No, not today."

"Mai? Mai? Terron? Mai? Mai?" You almost can't endure the thought of a "no" here.

"No, sweety, they are at home."

"Poppa? Poppa poppa poppa?"

"No, poppa has work to do today."

"Gramma?," and I know you are praying that this is where you hit the jackpot.

"No, not today, honey. Just mommy."

I know you love me and all, but the look of disappointment when you've exhausted your list of potential play candidates is heartbreaking. You resign yourself to spending the day with, ugh, just mommy and begin counting the seconds until Dad comes home to free you from my girly-oriented activities, like playing trucks and trains, and loading the digger with blocks for you to dump. Over. And over. And over. So, so girly.


I love how attached you've become to others, and how excited you get at the prospect of seeing your family and friends. You will scream their names when I tell you who is coming, run to the window in the mudroom to watch for them, and then when they arrive, you bury your head in my crotch, shyly turn half an eye towards them, and try to pretend you are invisible. All the signs of a good host according to my Miss Manners book on etiquette.


You hold your loved ones dear, Jack, and I know you always will. Your eyes absolutely light up if I mention any of your under-five crowd: Ava, Alyce, Caleb, Mai, Austin. Your love is complete, unconditional, and enveloping. It is that beautiful kind of love we all cherish and want, Jack. It's the kind of love that makes me teary-eyed when I see you wave goodbye to your family and friends and give them a big kiss, complete with all sound effects. If you bring them even 1/100th the joy you bring me, little boy, then these folks can count themselves on the list of the world's wealthiest.

All my love,
Your Momma