Two!

That's right; he's two.

The grandparents came out for the weekend and we had a birthday party at the zoo that went well, I thought. We fed the giraffes, had some lunch, opened presents, had cupcakes. Low-key, good for a two-year-old (especially one low on naps).

Yesterday he and I didn't do much since we were still in recovery mode from the weekend; I don't think any of us got enough sleep. But he's now got piles of toys (not like he was lacking before) and he was happy to play with the new toys and watch his new Elmo DVD over and over and over again.

And over.

And over.

I can't believe he's two. Two! He's a walking, talking little boy with opinions, when two years ago, we had this tiny, tiny thing that couldn't hold his head up. Yesterday, within the space of two minutes, he climbed up on the counter (using his brand new Tonka truck) and poured a ramekin of cooking oil on the kitchen floor. I would have chosen some other way to highlight his independence and abilities, but ornery is what being two is all about. Two years ago, it took all our combined efforts to nurse; last night he had meatballs and corn chips for dinner like they were going out of style. He ate seven mini-meatballs. Good grief.

So happy birthday, beautiful baby boy of mine.