The Moose Man, The Big Beef, Leee-nooos the Moose – this child just turned the Big T.W.O.
I can ignore this fact thanks to his fatness. Still sitting pretty at the 100%-ile for his age, which I guess is not so much a bragging point when you have a toddler, but still: it means I can still pretend he’s barely out of babyhood. He’s a toddler with cheeks for daaaaays. And wrist dents. And long lashes. I mean who needs a whiny, hateful, sleepless baby anyway, amirite? Bring on the toddlerhood, huzzah!
Anyway. He’s two, you guys. Which is kind of my favorite age, I am not even lying, so I’m happy to see this day come. He’s bossy, like whoa. Sassy and bossy and sometimes mean, but he gets so very regretful once he realizes he hurt your feelings, and grabs your face in those grubby mitts of his to bestow you with kisses, so all is forgiven. (I mean, except when he’s up at 5am, which happens way too often, then I am still pretty pissed at him.)
His daycare was closed for a few days this week, so I went ahead and took sick days (he and I both were rocking colds, so it was warranted). We snuggled while we watched Mighty Machines and got a lot of freezer meals squirreled away. We also took off for the conservatory down the street, long walks on chilly mornings collecting leaves and sticks and wondering over bugs and throwing rocks into the creek. He sneaked a Matchbox car in his jacket pocket and would take it out to carefully drive along the logs, funny little engine noises included.
He loves all vehicles – mostly the big ones. Trucks of all kinds, trains of all kinds, buses, farm machinery, you name it. Garbage trucks have a special place in his heart. He will eat the shit out of a bowl of yogurt, devours broccoli with relish, and can polish off a big tub of raisins in a matter of days, all by himself. And all the sugary bad stuff as well, of course, especially”cooooooookaaaaaaaayz”.
He’s got a lot to say at home but in public is a very quiet kid, not so much shy as just likely to be a very private sort when he grows up. He’s a happy kiddo, but quietly so. He makes a lot of facial expressions and gestures that remind me of my dad, and that makes me happy.
He is so funny, all toddler that kid. Somewhat coordinated and full of bravado and self-assured in that way only a 2 year old can be. He’s also a straight-up menace. This is the kid who has legit made me into a light sleeper; he has been known to get up at the wee hours of the morning to empty the pantry or flush random things down the toilet. Turn your back on him for a second and he’s going to find some way to break, spill, throw, or bulldoze something over.
Also he is slowly coming around to his mother, but mostly just likes to torment me for the fun of it. His favorite is at bedtime – every night Scott tells him to go tell his mommy ‘good night’, and that fat pajama-d thing walks up to me, pushes me, and tells me “GO AWAY MOM”. Then on cue I make my signature Sad Face. He waits a beat or two, giggling, then he screams JUST KIDDING I KISS I KISS and plants a big smacker on me.
Such a brat. I wish I could freeze him at this age for at least another 5 years.
Happy birthday, Moose man. Never slow down. Never change. (Well, maybe be less destructive and sassy. But otherwise: no.)
See also: One.