I am simply amazed that you can eat an entire container of yogurt with a fork. . . as you hold your spoon in the other hand.

Not so Fast!

This past Saturday, (21 January, 2012) we celebrated your second birthday. A small group of your friends came to the house and you all ran around, laughing and screaming, unaware of anything else in the world except the toy or friend you were playing with, the chicken nugget or cupcake you were eating. It was so much fun to watch, your Mommy and I couldn't believe it!

This afternoon (Monday, 23 January, 2012) I ran into an old friend at work. When I say old, I mean I've known him a long time, and that he just celebrated his 75th birthday. I joked with Al that he should finally give up the ghost and retire like he's been threatening to do, literally, since I met him. After 20 plus years in the Army and 24 with the Agency, he deserves to rest and enjoy his time however he pleases. Al laughed and told me he really might finally do it. Then he told me about the headlong collision his wife was in a few months ago which landed her in the hospital, and his newly developed congestive heart failure, which takes his wind away just from walking a flight of stairs.

After Al and I talked, all I could think of is how much you enjoy being two, how much Al struggles with being 75, and the ridiculously short distance between you. I know you can't really appreciate time yet, but you'll learn to soon enough. And I have something I want you to do in the meantime, as if what I want has any bearing on anything.

I want you to enjoy being two. I want you to stop trying so hard to grow up, to do everything for yourself, to be like Mommy and Daddy. You don't know it yet, but we're not alway so great. Instead, enjoy your toys, your nuggets, your cupcakes. Enjoy being babied and cuddled and watching the same episode of The Muppet Show for the 84th time. And most importantly, enjoy those friends. I promise they will be the only thing you have worth anything by the time your Al's age, which will be sooner than you can imagine.

A life lesson you're currently learning the hard way: Saying "please" doesn't guarantee you'll get what you want, but it certainly increases your chances!

About 18 months ago, I made a commitment to you that I would start keeping a journal again. This time, though, I would do it for you even though you were only seven months old. Sure, you're probably 19 as you read this, and in some college dorm. And I'm sitting at home hoping you maintain your chastity at least until I'm senile or dead, whichever comes first. 


Either way, I'm going to try to keep my commitment even though too much time has passed too quickly. You're two now, and I've missed the opportunity to detail when you said your first word, which was light, or started crawling, the day before Thanksgiving 2010. I doubt you'll hold that against me, but I'm getting to the stage where the firsts are coming more fast and furious than I could have imagined, and my ability to keep track of them all is quickly degenerating. At this point, I can barely keep track of my lunch, much less your ever growing ability to amaze me by doing things as simple as turning to me while we're taking a walk and saying, unprompted, "Love you, Daddy."


So, I'm going to try to keep a journal for you. And all that I ask of you in return is that you remember this one thing, and know it as truth for all times. No matter where you go in life, no matter what you do, Abbey Road will always be the greatest record ever made. Now, go get your internet-enabled hair brush, and find out what a record is.


The most recent thing you did to amaze me was this: While giving you a bath last Sunday night (Jan 8, 2012), you recognized and named, by site, every letter of the alphabet. I honestly don't know if that puts you ahead of any kind of intelligence curve, or is something you "should" have done 6 months ago. But either way, I was absolutely amazed. Your Mom and I have been singing the alphabet song to you since you were two or three months old, and reading to you since you were about two weeks old, but I still couldn't believe you could look at the letters (in no particular order) and name them off. And just in case you think that's no big deal, the level of pride I felt for you as you did that is no less than that I'll feel for you when you ace that physics exam you are so worried about. You know, 18 years from now when you're still a virgin in college.