It Wasn't So Bad

Terrible Twos, my butt.

The Talker is a great two-year old. His vocabulary is probably better than average, and he knows a few words that he should not, but in every other way, he is the prototype for a great two-year old.

I am going to sleep tonight a little sad. My boy will not be two-years old when we wake up. Not that anything will change overnight. But during the past year, a lot of little things that he used to do and say have disappeared. And a lot of the things that he is doing now just crack me up. I will be sad to see him stop these.

It'll really hit me hard when he tells someone he is three, and holds up three fingers. Unlike today, when he told everyone at the grocery store "I'm two! I'm a pirate. Ahoy, me hearties!" All the while wearing his best pirate hat and holding three fingers up proudly!

That's my boy. A lot better looking than me, and a little better at math, to boot.

But in the end, I only have to wait 14 months and The Princess will be two. Come back and see me then. Maybe my story will have changed. But probably not.