And like that, he is 2*
And he is laughing hysterically upstairs in his crib. Alone. In the dark. I do not see any ghost great grandmas on the monitor, but that doesn't mean that she isn't there telling him ghost knock knock jokes.
He has a great sense of humor, and the kid lives to dance. Kesha (sorry, Caleb), 70s Funk, Black Keys, Elmo. Doesn't matter. Kid likes to move.
And where Harlow is languid and loosey goosey and scattered, he is coiled and kinetic and ACTION incarnate. He sees a ball, and his body trembles in his excitement that IT IS A BALL A BALL BALL BALL BALL!!!!! He is like a little shark, this one. Can't stop moving.
He will spur his father to wall off the upstairs landing as Declan has an unfortunate habit of pulling himself up onto most furniture. He is a foot away from clearing the landing - and the two story fall. He climbs on top of tables. In his sock feet. I wonder what will see more of in his future: soccer fields, or the ER.
It has been a rocky journey, this making it to 2. I know he is thanking the powers that be for his handful of words, his ability to point at his diaper and have it changed, to say "juice!" and for me to know that he wants milk, that he no longer has to bang his head on the floor and scream because parents just don't understand. He loves his Warwoah who gives him unsolicited back rubs, and continues to do so when he grunts and hits the ground, her signal to never stop scratching his back. A special thanks also goes out to Murphy the dog who now endures near daily Declan rides. He loves his puppy. Declan tolerates his tiny master.
A friend today who sees Declan on a weekly basis called him simply awesome. And that's not just because of the natural born faux hawk. I'm inclined to agree.
*I apologize now, little man, that you are Second Kid. Harlow had a Bollywood Birthday party when she turned 2. You got a cookie cake from Kroger and we took you out for Mexican. But you ate the heck out of some tortilla chips.