two

Today, our boy turned two. We did his favorite things: ate pancakes and veggie sausage, played at Time In with two besties, split a pizza, "cooked" in his kitchen, posed for photobooth pictures and ate a 'dilla with beans after which the aforementioned very lucky little guy donned a sombrero as he was serenaded and given a real, full-size soccer ball he's since dubbed "new one." Everywhere we went, people wished him well and he returned the sentiment with "happy day!" Happy day, indeed. Exactly two years ago, when we were settling in for our first night as a family of three, I never could've guessed how cool this kid was gonna be. 

Since his first birthday, we've made a tradition of visiting the mall's photobooth (which, alas, is new-fangled and not the charming old variety) on the 14th of every month. He's grown more aware, funnier and less distracted by the buttons and his own likeness each month. His hair grew in; his sleeves got short and then long again; he learned what the pre-flash countdown meant, and developed a preference for animal backgrounds. Here is our year, 2011: 13 months to 24 months of George and Mama, smooching and waving and being caught off-guard, through colds and hat-hair days and the better part of another pregnancy.  

(Yes, we were "proud to be fabulous" two months in a row.)

 It's been a good year. To many, many, many more like it, and not like it, with plenty of photobooth duets, trios and quartets.