Two, really?

I remember finding out your were going to be you- a boy! I remember the relief, because I really wanted a boy, just to know I get to have an experience of "one of each." And it's not until now that I get to see what it is to have a boy. Up until recently you have been so much like your big sis. I mean, there is no denying who you belong to when we are in line to pick her up at preschool! It's truly uncanny! And you still are like her in so many ways- full of personality, sweet, always up for a good cuddle, lover of your bedtime. Bless your heart, you even have your mommy and sis's cowlick and space between your front teeth. At least you got our blue eyes too, though surrounded by longer lashes (how fair is that?).
(can you even stand how he has that hand in his pocket!)

For all that you love to mimic your sister, there is no denying you are making your own way. From early on, you have been absolutely OBSESSED with balls. Basketballs, footballs, soccer balls, and, dare I say, a princess ball. You may not believe me, but your dad didn't even push them on you. Seriously, you identified with them before he even had a chance to make introductions! You spot them from your backseat ride as we are headed anywhere, if we are at some one's house you have an uncanny ability to scout them out- like a moth to a flame.

(Patch, a gift from the sister that knows you so well)

And then..... you discovered the dog. Specifically, the dalmatian, or "mashon." (put hard emphasis on the first syllable and spit it out and you will get it right!) We could be completely focused on some other activity and a dog will bark in the far streets of Huntington and your ear perks up and you give a bark in return looking around as if this dog is going to show up here. Not that you'd pet it, because you are a little, um.... scared. This is so sad to me. Not only because I can't imagine loving something so much that only intimidates me, but because our precious Boone-dog was not a familiarity to you. You usually warm up to dogs if you have the pleasure to be around them long enough, so there is hope.

For all the things that make you, my boy, I am so thankful. You could look like the odd one out on Sesame Street's "which one of these things doesn't belong" or act like someone I've never met and I would be so taken with you. I am loving this two-year-old, rough and tumble, car-noise-making, throw-everything-in-sight, tantrum-throwing, squeeze-giving, I-can't-believe-I-have-a-boy....boy!