Things I Love About My Son My son just turned two. Two rocks.
- I love how every room in the entire world can be divided into two distinct, yet equally significant, camps: "Fan" (Phhhhun) and "No Fan" (Nuhphhhun).
- I love how his friends are so important that when he leaves them, he spends the next few hours still saying goodbye ("Byebye Noah...Byebye Abby...Byebye Alex...Byebye Everett...")
- I love how without ever seeing an episode of MacGyver, he can still escape from the most tenuous of circumstances (eg., his crib) with simply the tools on hand ("So I have Elmo, a small pillow, and Blankie. Okay Elmo, cover me...").
- I love how he can point to any random woman on the street and say "Mama?", yet he can easily spot the difference between a bulldozer, cement truck, dump truck, big digger, and as of yesterday, steamroller (okay, so this point isn't that great. For me, anyway.).
- I love how he digs all things Pittsburgh Steelers, yet always runs up to me after I get a pedicure and exclaims "Red Toe!"--sometimes while simultaneously attempting to clod around in my 5" Co-op platforms.
Like I said, two rocks.
1 comment:
Ahhhh! So the "terrible twos" is a myth. Happy (belated?) Birthday to your son.
When he grows up, he's totally going to be a professional superhero. Or 007.
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