Dear B,

You’re 2 years old.  Blessedly, wonderfully, surprisingly 2 years old.

You won’t eat a thing.  But you love to pretend to eat and you love to make us eat.  Seriously, son.  You can quit shoving food in my mouth any day now.

You’ve grown and developed and changed so much in the last 6 months. 

You can talk!  You call me MaMa…which is also what you call Daddy and Sissy and Grammie, but that’s ok.  I love when you say “uh oh.”  It sounds so perfect and clear and big-boy-ish.  Car, ball, go, up, down.  I’m so proud.

Whenever I tell you I need to hook up your “tube-y” (to feed you or give you medicine) you lift up your shirt and point to your g-button.

You want to push the meds through the tube yourself.

You love to play at the train table and sit down and stand up over and over and over and over again.  And you said “up” and “down” with each change.

You love your sister so much and want to be doing whatever she’s doing. 

You’re daddy’s boy.  Tonight we asked you who you wanted to put you to bed and you said ‘mama’ but pointed to daddy.  (see above)

When we go for doctors visits you show the nurses which leg you want the blood pressure cuff on.

You blow them kisses when we leave.

You give me real kisses with real kissy sounds and it melts my heart. 

You’re such a big boy and I’m so proud of you and I love you so much.

Love,
“MaMa”

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