When you think about it, two years is a long time. It’s also a short time. When you’re waiting in line for gas (ok, maybe it only felt like two years), it’s a long time. When you’re talking about my baby boy, it’s an amazingly short period, and it somehow snuck up on me.
Yesterday was Wyatt’s birthday. Two years can really whiz by when your kids are growing up. Gone are the days of spit up, bouncy seats, and nighttime feedings. Enter the period of jumping off couches, singing the alphabet (albeit out of order) and daily time-outs. I can remember my first ultrasound when I was pregnant with Wyatt, and the fear we felt when they noticed a “spot” on his heart. We were immediately rushed off to the high risk Doctor to have a level 3 scan to investigate further. It turned out to be nothing, but it was a significant preview of all the future mini heart attacks I would suffer as a result of his daredevil personality.
I can also remember wondering if there would be enough love in our hearts for another child, when we already loved Max so much. Now I can’t ever imagine not having him in our lives. He is stubborn, defiant, mischievous, and he does NOT like being told “no”. But overall, he is happy, with a great sense of humor, and a knack for making me forget why I’m reprimanding him. “OK, mommy, I wub you”, as he gives me a hug and lays his head on my shoulder. He has infintely improved upon the quality of my life. Happy Birthday, big boy.