And today you are three. It seems just like yesterday that people would ask how old you were, and we would answer, quickly followed by, "and one day he will be four," because we clung to the notion that once we cleared the twos, the terrible, terrible, twos, followed by what parents of a second child know, that three is much, much worse, that one day you would be four.
But now you are three. It's kind of a relief as this was just yesterday.
So two years old ago.
Three. No more tantrums. Complete sentences. Pooping on the potty. Unicorns. It's gonna be epic.
In the meantime, there is Mr. Owl, Murphy your dog/snuggle buddy, a fascination with trucks and earth-moving equipment so intense it's borderline disturbing, daily dance-offs, and a sweet, goofy charm that goes a long way to offsetting those awesome meltdowns. Which aren't going to happen anymore because you are three.