Dear Jace: On your second birthday

Buddy-

As much as I feel inclined to start this letter in the cliché "how can you be getting so big so fast" manner. . . I'm going to try to refrain myself. As much as I want to reminisce about how I use to snuggle your tiny newborn head between my shoulder and my face. . . I won't. And although I feel the need to tell you that I haven't the slightest clue as to when you got big enough to talk and color and wrestle {and throw tantrums}. . . I'm not going to allow myself. Instead I'm going to focus on the part of you that makes me the absolute happiest right now. The two-year-old you, the big boy you, the you that I love so much. And although it's true, I can't believe you're getting so big so fast, I also would never be willing to trade my time with you, at this age, for anything. Even a littler model. Because you're two, and although I can't believe it, I love it!

Right now, as I type, you and I are sharing fruit loops. Malt o' meal straight out of the bag. I'm sitting criss-cross-applesauce on a barstool and you, still in your footie pajamas, on the counter. You carefully pick a fruit loop for yourself, then without hesitation grab a chubby two-year-old handful for me. I continue typing while you stuff my face with fruit loops, most of which land on my lap or on the floor or on the barstool. But you don't care. And neither do I.

Oh my goodness, Jace, you are such a fun kid. Our lives have been so sweetly blessed by you joining our little family. You're definitely where you belong. And I can't get enough of you. No matter how much I try I can't get enough of your kisses; you lean in close, lips almost touching my cheek, then make kissing noises. Adorable. And the way you say thank-you. Dank-ouu. And in the cutest little boy voice. Melts my heart. And you're little blonde head and your blue eyes that sparkle the same shade as Grandpa's. All of you, I can't get enough of it.

And although sister complains sometimes about Jace Buddy doing this or Buddy doing that, she is protective of her little brother as a mother bear of her baby cubs. Today when we dropped her off at preschool she gave me a kiss then ran back to your seat and gave you a kiss. She grabbed her backpack, headed out the van door, then changed her mind and came back and gave you one more kiss before she left. And as much as she loves you and protects you, I think you idolize her even more. You copy e.very.thing your sister does. Everything. You copy what she says, how she sits, what she wants to eat. You're her shadow. Her echo. Her sidekick. Where there's a Brynlee, there's a buddy.

And you and your dad, Jace. I love it. I'm sitting here trying to put into words your relationship. Cool? Beautiful {in a very manly way, of course}? Loving? Perfection? It's a bond that only a father and a son can share. It's different than your and my bond. And different still from dad and Brynlee's bond. I overheard dad telling you the other day that he can't wait until your old enough to go watch all the "boy movies" with him. We're going to watch them all, he said, every single good boy movie ever made. And you will, I don't doubt that. But for now you two wrestle, you "punch", he gives you horsie back rides, sometimes you cry when dad has to leave for work, and you are always the first one to greet him when he walks in the door again. I think you and dad will always have that bond. You're so much alike, made for each other, the perfect father and son team.

We went to your two year doctor appointment last week. You weighed 28.4 pounds {50%} and were 36 inches tall {79%}. You hate nursery. Love naptime. And wrestling. You live for hotdogs. And squeal when daddy gets home from work. You call 'jumping on the tramp' bonka bonka and love to pretend you're a dog. You call yourself "buddy" and say "no, I'm buddy" if anyone ever tries to correct you. Your dad calls your uncontrolled laughter your "fat boy laugh" and we hear it often. You wear 3T clothes and size 7 shoes. You think your sister is hilarious and you copy her every move. You love outside. And every.single.time you're given the opportunity to purchase a treat you pick a pink sucker and a blue laffy taffy. You know your colors. Orange, pink and black are your favorites to spot. Pink was the first color you learned, thanks to your big sister. And for a while you called the color white, milk. You've discovered a new found love for trains and have recently become obsessed with your mega-blocks. You adore you're Aunt Maire and jumping on/off furniture. You hate haircuts and getting your teeth brushed. You know all the characters on Spongebob by name. You have beautiful eyes and the cutest little raspy voice. And your run makes my heart skip. You sleep with your "yahyah"{silky: which is actually a small piece of my undershirt} and your "more"{sippy cup}. And you make us all so very happy.

Happy second year, little buddy. I love you forever and ever. And then some.

Mommy