My Theodore James is two. I have a two-year-old boy. Our boy is two.
It happened rather suddenly, despite the fact that I’ve been thinking of him as “just about two” for a few months now.
At two, Theo makes funny faces, and jokes like “elephant…eat poop.” (Cue grinning and chuckling). He speaks in compact sentences devoid of anything resembling an article or preposition, but which get the point across. He has his moments, but also half of his two-year molars, so he’s allowed his moments.
He discovered the glory of presents, and I couldn’t help but think about last year when it took a half an hour and a good deal of coaxing to get him to open his one. He has not lost his gusto for cake, although he ate it with a fork this year instead of smashing the plate into his face.
Every time I ask him to guess what’s for dinner, he guesses “CAKE?!” just like every time I ask him who he thinks is coming to visit, he says “Nana?!” Today, he counted to three, and he can say things like “hippopotamus” and “helicopter”. He’s also picking up my habit of saying “nuts.” which makes me glad that I’m not in the habit of saying anything else.
He is all about airplanes, trains, helicopters, busses and tractors, and is also spellbound by butterflies. We often go on walks, and Theo likes to fill his pockets with rocks until his shorts can no longer cling to his tiny toddler hips, and he hitches them up every couple of steps.
Eating is not a problem. His pickiness hasn’t set in yet, if it is indeed on the horizon. He sometimes doesn’t want certain things, but who doesn’t, and he likes things like broccoli and tofu, which is really cute.
He’s our boy. He is happy and full of energy and tricks and is so mine that I sometimes just want to go down to his room after we’ve put him to bed, gather him up, and cuddle him like a tiny baby again (but I don’t. Because of common sense and sleep.)
Happy birthday, my Theodorable!