Two

I didn't cry. I was certain I would when I woke up this morning. Certain that my baby being another year older would hit me like a ton of bricks, that it would make my eyes well up, and my heart flip flop just a little, but it didn't. Instead I smiled. Wyatt jumped on our bed, and we ate our Belgian waffle birthday breakfast, topped with whip cream of course and I kissed my squirmy ball of fire two year old, and I didn't cry.

The sadness of his little-ness fading away a little more each day, is gone. And the fear of two has been overshadowed by the fun of one, and all the adventures that the past year has brought. He didn't seem older, or look bigger, but it felt different. And hearing my boy say "Wyatt Ah Ah (otness) Two!" sure made it sink in, that my Wyatt Ah Ah is two. I wondered for a moment where the time went, and through my mind like a slide show of memories ran the train rides, the walks, playing at the park, coloring, dancing, jumping on the bed, stomping in mud puddles, mix baby mixing, swimming, hide and seek, reading books in Daddy's chair, singing at the top of our lungs, ah...that's where the time has gone, and time well spent it was.

We played the day away, and when dinner time was upon us, we decided on Wyatt's favorite meal, pizza, at Nana's house. (A birthday boy request) Afterwards the sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, and we took the long way home to make a pass by the caribou so that Wyatt could tell them "goodnight" and blow them kisses from the side of the road.

Bedtime crept closer, and we started to put away the trains, and the monster trucks and the remnants of the fun that we had today. And as I put pajamas on my two year old, I smiled, and he smiled back. He climbed into his yellow car bed, and I climbed in next to him, my body curled up next to his little body, his head sinking into my arm. And I told Wyatt, the story of the day he was born. He laid still and quiet, and listened intently. He giggled when I told him that "pop! out came Wyatt and he cried", and I told him how everyone came to see him and that Mommy and Daddy and Wyatt were surrounded by everyone we loved, to help welcome baby Wyatt to the world.

As I told him about the first day, and the joy, and tears and excitement, Wyatt reached for my hand, and wrapped his little two year old fingers around mine. And then, I cried. I smiled at my boy as his eyes got heavy, and I kissed his hand that was resting in mine, and let one tear fall. One tear for all the little boy times that we were leaving behind, and for all the adventures that lie ahead.

My boy is two. They have been the best two years of my life. My wishes for Wyatt are huge, that he can take the world in his hands, and that he accomplishes his heart's desires. That he is loved, and gives love, that his scale of happiness and sorrow always stays tipped just a little more toward happy, and that no matter what he does, or where he goes, he is happy, and he knows, that I will always be with him..

And of course I had to go back in time, and it was very hard not to cry when I read this: http://otness.blogspot.com/2009/09/first-impressions-on-one-year-old.html

Happy Birthday Pal, I love you..