Happy 2nd Birthday to My Bublicious Baby!

Dearest Bode,

Your father will never let me forget that I will be at BlogHer on your second birthday, which is why I am posting this one day early. I hope you will not hold this over my head like he has. After all, it’s not like you won’t have many, many others, right?

Birthdays, that is. Not letdowns from Mommy.

Over this past year, you have become more independent while maintaining your sweetness. You are my intrepid hiking buddy and love being in the backpack. In fact, one day you were such a zealot that you tried to crawl into it by yourself. At least that’s what I ascertained when I found you and the backpack face-first on the cement. You still climbed back in without hesitation and I was so proud that you got back on that horse. Not that I am referring to myself as such. I prefer pack mule.

I love to talk and sing to you during our hikes because you cannot escape are a captive audience. When you were about 19 months old, I was singing the alphabet song from your sister’s Leap Frog video and you identified and sounded out every single letter. I was shocked because you were barely talking more than a grunt but this delighted me because evidently plopping you in front of the TV makes me a good mother.

You are surely the first boy in the history of mankind to be obsessed with balls, trucks and “Choo Choos.” You have “Sissy” to thank for the Thomas the Trainset you enjoy so much. When your sister was 2 years old, she drew blood at Toys R Us over her refusal to leave Thomas behind. It got so bad, dear Bode, that she had to be personally escorted out of the store by the manager. She received the train track for Christmas and–like the pioneers of old–you should revere your sister’s great sacrifices to carve the path track before you.

We recently took you camping for the first time and you gloried in a new favorite: dirt. My most treasured moment of that trip was seeing you blissfully snuggled up in your sleeping bag that night. Daddy let you play with the flashlight until you fell asleep and you took great delight in watching the light and shadows dance off the side of the tent. It is one of my fondest memories of you. Not so fond was your sick father who was in and out of the tent all night praying to the [non]porcelain gods of the campground’s outhouse.

With all this talk of boy stuff, your future conquests…err…girlfriends need not be worried because you also have a softer side. In addition to being a wonderful snuggler, you often request the “City” song whenever we get into the car. For those uncultured souls, you are referring to “Emerald City” from Wicked, a soundtrack you absolutely adore. I get a big kick out of it though I sometimes worry your love for show tunes will someday get you beat up on the playground. Your father assures me your throttlings will have more to do with outfits such as this:

You are my treasured boy, affectionate sweetheart and loved by everyone around you.

Happy birthday and thanks for always keeping up with this Crazy Clan of ours. We’ll never leave you behind….


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