Q's 2nd birthday was low-key to a fault. She and I had the flu about 36 hours prior, so the morning of her birthday, I jumped out of bed and realized that:
1. I felt much better!
2. I had neither purchased her a present nor wrapped the presents from her Florida grandparents and Uncle Tom. I hurriedly stuffed them into gift bags as I ascended the stairs to rescue her from her crib.
Basically, the majority of Q's birthday was spent disinfecting and cleansing the house from the veritable plague to which it had recently been subjected. Around lunchtime, I packed her off to Walmart and picked out three new books for her in lieu of a birthday present--I also had a toddler-sized infinity scarf that I had made for her out of one of my old scarves. She got a jungle animal puzzle from Uncle Tom and a small wooden train from her Florida grandparents, which they watched her open on Skype.
Q's birthday party had been postponed until Saturday due to our recent brush with death (a little drama never hurt anyone's blog, right?), and that day was thankfully more festive! At her request, Q was presented with a beautiful Mario cake made by her Nana (it was a toss up between Mario and cats). Two of Q's second cousins and their mamas attended, along with her great aunt, and there were helium balloons, fake mustaches, finger foods, and minor meltdowns. Q got the sweetest, most bashful smile on her face when everyone sang her "happy birthday."
If Q asks me what she was like at age 2, this is what I'd say: The duck fluff on the top of your head has finally started to come in, which is why we got you your first haircut just a month shy of your second birthday. You know the ABCs--I have heard you sing the entire song in your car seat as I drive--but refuse to say them on command for anybody. You know colors and numbers too. You're definitely NOT a people pleaser. Sometimes all that my yelling and fuming gets me is a big, impish grin on your face. We gave up on time outs because you would sit quietly in your chair amusing yourself and singing until the timer rang, then run delightedly into my arms with a smile. You still won't give strangers the time of day. You comfort yourself by constantly putting your hands in your mouth, which has translated into a LOT of sickness coming into the house (despite the fact that I'm one of "those moms" who busts out the disinfectant wipes to wipe down the grocery cart).
You continue to be a voracious reader--we probably average between 10 and 20 books a day, and that's with me limiting it. You LOVE "Mr. Brown Can Moo" and "Hop on Pop" and ask me to read them multiple times per day, but you're sitting still for longer books, too. You can recite most of your books by yourself--I've heard you! You believe that your daddy was set on this earth for the sole purpose of amusing you. I have never heard such loud, boisterous, utterly delighted laughs as when he is playing with you--usually something silly like tossing your stuffed owls against a wall, chasing you with a ducky, or "boinging" you by your arms up and down the hallway. People always comment on your blue eyes. You STILL get mistaken for a boy. You have recently begun singing, and hearing your soft little baby voice singing a familiar song completely out of tune is my favorite thing in the world. You like bunnies and owls.
I can tell you "no" about a hundred times, and you still won't get it (examples include: messing with the garbage can/recycling bin, taking cereal out of the cabinet, and grabbing the cat). You're just starting to get the hang of doing things on your own, such as putting on your shoes, putting on clothes (sort of), emptying your forks and spoons from the dishwasher, and brushing your teeth. You appear to be the indoorsy type, and I suspect that you might have inherited my utter lack of patience (you'll try to do something for yourself for about 3 seconds before you ask me to help you, at which point I usually decline). You are under the mistaken impression that I am a human jungle gym. You are your parents' most darling daughter, and we take delight in watching your personality take shape as you blossom into a "kyad" (as you say "kid").
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