A Letter to the Boodge on His Second Birthday

Dear Boodge,

I write this to the smell of chocolate cake baking in the oven. Another year has flown by, and here you are, two years old. I’ve been so lucky to be able to spend this whole year with you, every day. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled and laughed so much in one year of my life. It seems like every day, you have me grinning before my first cup of coffee, whether it be with a big “Gud Mownin, Mommy!”, or a sloppy wet wake-up kiss, or a ridiculously cute bed-head, or just the sight of your smile.



This year has been all about watching you emerge, from the baby you were to the full-force personality you now are. Language came fast and furious—you were hungry for words and picked them up at a surprising rate. Early in the year it surprised us when you would suddenly say “cereal” or “helicopter” or “playground”. But then we began to realize how quickly you were absorbing and remembering everything around you, how sharply your mind was working. Words became sentences, you began to sing back to us the songs we sang to you, and here we are now, having the beginnings of conversations, the beginnings of jokes. You talk constantly, stringing a running narrative to everything you do, even if nobody is listening.

You are emerging, and you are spectacular. I recently read a comment from a mother who said that as much as we try to mold our children, they are who they are; that her child was the same person at 12 that she was at 2. If that holds true, I will be very blessed. What I’ve gotten to know of who you are is a happy spirit, a fun-seeker, someone with a constant twinkle in his eye and smile on his lips, someone who never stays down for too long. Someone who is nice and friendly, greeting our friends and relatives cheerfully and even shouting “Have a nice day, Lady!” and "Thanks for coming out!" to customers leaving stores. You are far from shy (though sometimes you take a minute to warm up to men). When I bring you into a new play situation you jump right in, never clinging to me for comfort. You like to entertain a crowd and seem to feed off the energy of an audience.



You are goofy, too, and love to make us laugh. If you get a laugh, you will come back to that joke again and again. Too bad we laugh at toilet humour, because it can be embarrassing when you decide to yell out “Did you fart in my face?” in the middle of Canadian Tire, or when you out your Dad by shouting “Daddy had a big fart!” in the aisle at the grocery store. But you are also a dedicated explorer, and when you are learning something new you get a silent and intense concentration on your face. Just in the last month or so, we’re seeing a new side, too—a risk taker, thrill-seeker. You are gaining more confidence in your body, and trying new things. I try not to put fear into you, but also to keep you safe. You stop my heart sometimes.

You are just so adorable at this age. I will so miss this year between one and two, with the little language quirks you have (Boofuta day! Are you widdy? Dat's a peecy peecy pider!), the way you hug by putting your head on our shoulder, but not using your arms, the way you dance by bending your knees and waggling your head, the sweet effort you make to do things yourself—put your socks on, carry the grocery bags, cut your food. And then the crazy pride I feel with each new skill you acquire. The way you still love me in that special way that I know won’t last forever, always shining your smile on me, wanting to play or snuggle with or imitate me. I’m pretty sure this will be one of the sweetest, purest, most joyous years I experience with you. Because you are sweet, pure, and joyous right now.

This year, if all continues well, we will give you a sibling. I’m pretty sure you will like that—you love to play with other kids and I can’t wait for you to have an everyday playmate, and someone you can learn about relationship with, confide in, explore with, who is your age. Some things will change for you and I, and that makes me sad. It's been so special, this time of just you and me--I'll miss it. But I’m so lucky we had these two years, and I’m looking forward to seeing you become a sibling. You are already sweetly trying to nurse your little baby-doll, asking me to change her diaper, and putting her to bed. You stroke my tummy and say “Hi Baby, Hi Peanut!” I think you’re going to be a great big brother.

I can't explain in words how proud we are of you, and how much happiness you bring to our lives. I just hope I do it justice in parenting you. I'm so grateful for your positive energy, your sharp mind, your healthy body, your silly humour, your sweet love. Happy Birthday little Boo. Thank you for another amazing year with you, and here's to a long, long life together.

Love,
Mummy