Charlito, you little bandito, you've completely stolen all my love. This time two years ago, I didn't think I could love you more. Then I did. This time last year I was certain my heart gave you all it could give. Then it swelled. You're the coolest, kindest, smartest, cutest, funniest kid I know. Stay this way forever.
If kids came out two years old, I might have 36 of them. This walking, talking funny little person I get to hang out with all day is just about the coolest thing I've ever done. You're pushing boundaries, of course, but mostly you are just sweet. We go on long walks in the mornings - you almost always run, and I'm amazed at your body's stamina. It just goes and goes and goes. A lady at the store called you a busybody yesterday, and while that word was delivered with some real negative connotations (I think it had something to do with you grabbing entire piles of shirts off the shelves and asking if they were yours), it's a pretty good description. You go, go, go until it's time for nap or bed and then you're zonked. Sleep. Oh, glorious sleep. Your aunt Jen kept telling me it'd come back, but I'm not sure I really believed her. But here it is. You love your bed, and I die just a little bit inside every time you tell me, "Chawlee sooooo tired" and run into your room to sleep. It's the only time you get your pacifiers, and I think your love for sleep has a lot to do with those little suckers. You're still going down around 7/7:30, waking at 7:45/8:15, and napping for a few hours every day. There were several days in a row that you were getting a solid 13 hrs at night, and we got to sleep until almost 9. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. This sleep is a treat, my littlest friend. Thank you.
Just about everything is more fun with you in tow. You talk ALL.THE.TIME and are noticing and wondering so much about your little world. Your number one is still heavy machinery and moving vehicles - diggers, bulldozers, trains, helicopters, motorcycles, and all these words, and so much more, are just forming day to day. Bulldozer (bull-dadaz), helicopter (hel-guyguyz) and motorcycle (mo-guyguyz) have all, in the last couple of weeks, formed into the "right" words, which admittedly I'm a little bummed about. But it's amazing to watch your language evolve from week to week. You have the worlds sweetest voice, and these big words and sentences coming out of your little body just crack me up. You're still mostly talking in the third person, but you've started saying "I" and hold "me" in the last couple of days. You're modeling and mimicking and picking up on so much. And this sad voice you have. Oh my. Well it's part whine and part magic and mostly the cutest thing I've heard. I'm trying not to encourage it, but I also can't stop myself from loving (laughing at) it. The other day at the park I asked if you were okay, you looked kinda bummed, and you said, "No. Chawlee so sad." in the sweetest, most pathetic voice, and then you went on to tell me that the big kid didn't want you touching his bike (which is totally sad). But you never cried about it or got too frustrated, you just communicated in that pathetically sweet voice. Life was sad in that moment, but you went and slid down a slide instead and mostly that made everything okay. You also save this whiney voice when you ask for chocolate for breakfast or popsicles whenever the thought crosses your mind. I love this voice and the curled bottom lip that accompanies it, but I try not to let you know it. Your communication and understanding is still unbelievable. You get everything we say. You understand inflection and looks and really follow direction. Maybe I shouldn't be so completely in awe of this, but I taught high school, and I swear you have better social skills than a good many of my students did. You just seem to get it. You're interested in potty training still too, but I'm so nervous to actually 100% commit. I don't want to push you before you're ready and have everything backfire on us. But we went almost a week without having to change a dirty diaper because you were just so good about telling me you had to go. Sometimes this meant going in our backyard, but not going in the diaper seemed like a win, so we went with it! We've since fallen back into the diaper routine, but I feel proud of you for listening to your body. And one of these weeks we're just gonna go for it. I wish you could just tell me when.
Your birthday party was a total success. The weather was beautiful, and how lucky you are to be surrounded by so much love. We all went to bed a little happier and completely thankful that night - mostly thankful that you didn't hate your party like you did last year. The entire weekend was kinda magical actually. You wanted us to light a candle and sing "Happy Birthday" to you at almost every meal, and several times throughout the weekend I'd walk up to find you singing it to yourself. It really was a great day.
Wishing you your best year yet, my tiniest friend. Let's make this terrible two thing a total myth...we're not going there, right??? Right. All my love and more.
