Dear Ryan,
You've made it to two. You should be very proud. You even managed to do it without breaking a bone, breaking a tooth, or breaking your mother. Now that's something to be proud of.
We had a little party for you today, and you happily ate your way through the festivities. If there's something you're good at, it's eating. Perhaps you'll become a restaurant critic (and hopefully not morbidly obese eating twisties on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune when you're 45).
Being two comes with responsibilities. You're expected to not chew on your toys anymore. You should now be able to help with household chores (nothing too strenuous, but I'm sure you can manage unpacking the dishwasher and cleaning up the dog poo in the backyard). It's called pulling your weight - a term society will ensure you become very familiar with, however I give you permission to ignore it.
If you're reading this in 20 years time you might want to know what you were like when you were two, so here goes:
- you're cultivating a fine head of blonde hair (when I say cultivate I mean taking your time growing. It's still just fluff).
- you say delicious at every meal time and it makes your ma very happy.
- you'll lie in my arms, fiddle with your blanket, and stare into space before nodding off to sleep.
- everyone says you look like you're dad.
- you're kindhearted, even after your brother has taken your favourite toy and hidden it under the stairs.
- you're industrious, always busy.
- You ride you're bike. all. day. long.
You have a brother who is your best friend and tormentor all rolled into one. When you're old enough I'll tell you the real story of what happened to your teddy.
So happy 2nd birthday Ryan. You spent it with those you love, laughing, blowing out candles and being the absolute delight that you are.
* Mum.