The Bug turns two this weekend. It's hard to believe and yet bringing home my little four-pounder seems like ages ago.
It is so fun to watch her explore and develop and yet, at times, surviving the changes at this stage requires a level of patience beyond my redheaded capabilities. Last week's full moon saw a Twilight-esque transformation from adorable princess to rabid-werewolf-child complete with new upper vamp teeth, full on attacks of rage, and uncontrollable urges to leap from furniture to furniture. Do they all go through this, or is mine just a special hybrid of spoiled brat (the Man's side) and redheaded stepchild (mine)?
Yes, the above photos are the same kid.
Your kid might be turning two if:
The answer to every question is "YESNO" or "NOYES," followed by ten minutes of thrashing and and throwing toys.
When you pass an RV or a fire engine on the road, you think it looks like a character from Cars instead of a vehicle.
Your Netflix is trippin because it thinks your "recommended" preferences are all day-glo animated kid shows and you just want to watch something violent with angry adults in it. NO GABBA GABBA if you know what I mean?
Your kid automatically associates cookies with going to Target because you've been doing an embarrassing amount of bribery just to get through the store with your Clorox wipes and half and half without a meltdown. And the express lane is just too bubblin' slow.
Approximate time to move from the house to the car for an event is somewhere around an hour and a half, starting with ten minutes to get the jammies off, approximately 20 minutes of chasing tiny person around living room with a clean diaper, another ten for putting on clean clothes, another ten putting on sweatshirt, another ten for putting on shoes, another ten for finding keys hidden by tiny person. Another ten for finding left shoe removed by tiny person while finding keys and putting left shoe back on. Another 25 for convincing argument and negotiations to get tiny person in car seat. Another ten for putting shoes removed while in carseat back on feet. Five for mom breathing deeply and trying to ward off stroke, before trying to operate vehicle. Repeat for leaving original destination. Bonus points for remembering where you were going in the first place or actually remembering the package you were going to mail.
While all of this is true, at this stage she couldn't be cuter. She couldn't be funnier. She couldn't be more honest and tender. When she's mad, she bangs her head on the floor. When she's happy, she smothers you with cuddles and kisses. If only it were that simple when we get older. Banging my head on the floor sounds about right, some days.
Cheers to being two, my little Bug! You are the cutest little salsa in the world and you leave your sparkle on everyone who meets you.