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Dear Truman-Boy,

I meant to write this letter on your second birthday, and then time just got away from me as it so often does these days. I hope that the “better late than never” philosophy works in this situation, because I have a lot to say to you. I’m terrified that one day I won’t remember the way you are right now and the amazing little things you do will be lost and forgotten by the time you think to ask me about them. I always liked to hear about “when I was a little girl” and I’m assuming you’ll one day want to hear about yourself as a little boy, and quite a little boy you are!

You wake up every single day with a new word, phrase, or idea. As soon as your eyes pop open you are ready to roll (or as you say it, whoa-l.) You love to help, from throwing dirty diapers in the trash to bringing out your laundry. You want to cook, clean, care for your brother, fetch things, and feed the animals. You will sometimes let out this exasperated little sigh after you’ve completed a job, like washing the sliding glass door really took it out of you. You ask about the washer and dryer (Wah-ser, dry-er) and sign for the Kitchen-Aid mixer by “stirring” with your whole arm.

You LOVE electronics and anything with a cord (turn it awwwnnn, pug it iiiinnn!) You put two and two together about many things, such as plugging things in and the fact that they go into a wall. Then you tell me the wall is tall. Which leads you to tell me Daddy is tall. You wondered whether the mixer is inside of the ceiling fan because they both go around. You know who owns each piece of clothing that comes out of the dryer, (Mama’s! Daddy’s! Baby’s! MINE!) and that if your baby brother is crying he needs a bobo and a blanket, stat.

You have a strut and a smile that suggests complete confidence and yet you are a little shy and intimidated by new people and other kids. Though you do a few things that make my heart stop, overall you are cautious, and like to be on solid ground.

Your sense of humor is absolutely incredible. Daddy and I laugh and laugh about the stuff you come up with. Recently, you’ve been playing a trick on me concerning your two favorite songs. You’ll say “Pi-der” and do the first motion in the Itsy Bitsy Spider song. I’ll begin to sing it, and then you’ll say, “Bum-Bum!” and do the first motion in the Baby Bumble Bee song! So, I switch mid-song and you think that is sooo funny. You keep switching and I’ll oblige. You switch faster and faster until the songs end up in a crazy mash-up of spiders and bees and have both of us in a fit of giggles.

You are kind and thoughtful. You still nurse once or twice a day, usually when you are tired or crabby. For a little while, your latch was strange and leaving teeth marks around my nipple, causing me pain. I would ask you to stop and try again because it was hurting. You’d look at me with the sweetest expression, pained for me and very carefully re-latch. Now, every time you nurse you stop after awhile and point at my nipple, then point to your teeth and furrow your brow, (Mama oh-kay?) to make sure I’m not hurting. Your sweetness brings me to tears. You give random hugs, running from across the room yelling Mama! and squeezing for no reason. You recently learned to kiss with a pucker and smacking sound, and of course a lot of drool!

You point out the things you know matter-of-factly. (Moon! Bus!) You point out the things you don’t know, and ask what they are, (Dis? Dat?) repeating after us as if you’re carefully storing the knowledge away. You remember everything. After seeing me pump one time you said “Milk!” while pointing at the pump six weeks later when you saw it again. You still talk about the bird that pooped outside on the living room windowsill (EEEEWWW! Birrr – POOP!) two months ago.

I fear that you’ll remember me yelling at you, but you have the ability to push me to my breaking point sometimes! You are very head strong and like to ignore us until we make motion to physically take you to time out. Then you’ll yell NOOOOO! in the sassiest tone imaginable. You like to touch things that you aren’t allowed to touch, throw things, and generally ignore instruction. Maddening as this is, I know that doesn’t make you anything other than a normal two year old.

All of the time I tell you that I love you too much, and then your Dad says, “It is impossible to love someone too much!” What I mean when I say that, is that sometimes I feel like I love you to the point of insanity. That I want to put you in a plastic bubble to keep you safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. I know that you’ll be hurt in this life. I know that some mean kid will pick on you. That some little girl will break your heart. That you’ll have scrapes and bumps and bruises and the flu. That you’ll be excited about something and that excitement will be crushed by some mean-spirited jerk. Thinking about those things happening to you takes the breath from my lungs and chokes me with tears. It makes me hate the unknown people of your future who will put you through those awful things. I pray that I will be able to help you though these pitfalls and disappointments. I hope I can guide you, advise you and comfort you. More than anything else, I hope my incredible love for you will only make you stronger and that I will be strong enough to not allow it to hold you back from taking chances, and living your life.

I’m so proud of you Truman, my big Two Year Old guy. The last twenty five months have gone entirely too fast for your weepy old Mom. Can we try to slow it down just a little this year?

Love you too much,