For the love of two year olds

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 For the love of 2 year olds.

  My father asked me how old my son was today . It was not that HE couldn’t remember, rather, he was trying to remind me after I had done a bit of complaining about the state of my den floor. “Two” I answered as the realization of what he was thinking sunk in to my overtired  and very frazzled brain.  

 This is my 3rd two year old child . I know all about the “Terrible Two’s”. I used to call them “Terrific two’s” actually since my first 2 kids were  great at 2 (it was 3 that was a more challenging time for all of us, but not  still bad)    

My  baby  is now half way through the 2 year and his nickname has the word  “Destructo” in it. Or maybe hurricane  is a better description. Tornado? He is the whirlwind of bouncing off the walls energy combined with the amazing ability to empty drawers and cabinets at the speed of light, going from room to room, only stopping to throw all my pillows and cushions on the floor or pull  his sister’s books off her book shelf or  dump a bowl of cereal or a hamper.

  He is a climber, a screamer, a jumper , a runner,  a feisty little thing  full of his favorite word “NO!” He needs his shirt changed and  his boo-boos kissed  hourly.

   He is   also   one of the cutest  boys  I have ever seen in all my years . His smile can stop me from opening my mouth and spewing the hurricane force  words that just want to pour put of me.  His voice can melt any tension that started churning  in the frenzied state of cleaning this mess. His eyes, well, any Mom knows what the innocent eyes can do to us. Talk about unconditional love.  

 Two is a wonderful fantastic age of self discovery and pushing boundries. The inventor of the refrigerator lock knew this. (and I’m on my 2nd one  with him alone)   Two is one of the sweetest ages EVER! Really. I like to look for the positive , to know that life just goes by so fast and this precious age is to be appreciated, for all it’s worth.    New words are learned and spoken from my little guy daily .  He does the happy dance when he sees his Grandma and Grandpa, he waves to the garbage men with uncontained joy, he piles onto my lap with 15 books and a few stuffed puppies  and cuddles in between my legs and arms, a perfect fit that every Mother has the privelege of knowing.  He can buy that extra hour at bedtime each and every night by saying “MUH-MO” (one more)  after each story I read. He can shout hurray at seeing a cookie, or throw a green bean 18 feet across a room , but one thing he cannot do is sit still. He prefers to watch his train movies while jumping on the couch or climbing on the bay window.

Some people may call this hyperactive or put a label  on it. To me, it’s called “Two”.  And I’ll take it.


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