cat named pig

Dear Two-Year-Old,

I just thought you should know a few things about yourself at this age, so you can read this later in life and either laugh or cringe at this time you don’t remember.

First off, your hair is worth remarking upon (everyone else certainly does). It is curly enough that we can’t bear to cut it, but long enough in the back to give rise to endless questions about your future hockey career. Sometimes it forms gigantic wings that swoop out to the sides, and you will probably hold this against us some day, but we think it’s funny. Mostly, we think it suits you: it’s sort of shaggy and laid-back, with plenty of enthusiasm. Just like you.

You’ve learned from your sister that a crown is always an appropriate accessory:

And that whoever cries louder usually doesn’t get blamed for whatever just happened.

You have a few new favorite books, most notably the esteemed work of rhyming fiction Tumble Bumble, which you pronounce differently every time you say it. (I especially like “Bumble Fumble,” which is also how I would describe myself trying to read it while changing your diaper and not able to see the words.)

After we read books at bedtime and naptime, you always request a song or five. Usually five. Some of these are real songs (you love my bumbly fumbly attempt at this one) and some of these are real songs that have been, uh, customized to reflect the unique interests and priorities of our family. “Twinkle, Twinkle, New Condo” would be one such customization, developed at your insistence shortly after my mom moved into her place downtown. Another is “Ring Around the Rojo One,” which is similar to “Ring Around the Rosie” but features your favorite color, which you only call by its Spanish name.

You are very proud of your “big boy bed” and very interested in any game your sister wants to play with you. You guys play hide-and-seek constantly, and I love hearing you count and then say “Hmm. I know!” before running off to look for her.

You’re doing great at being two, Buddy, and if I could bottle some of your sweetness and just take a whiff from time to time, it would help me deal with the knowledge that, in a few short years, you’ll wince when I sing and you’ll be too cool for hide-and-seek.

Love,

Mama