Happy 2nd birthday, Evan

Dear Evan,

Up until a few months ago, you would only refer to yourself as Baby. You had names for everyone else in your life, but you showed no interest whatsoever in voicing your own. "Baby," you'd say proudly when people asked your name. And then, as insistent as you'd been about the Baby thing, one day it was just gone. "No Baby," you told me, shaking your head dramatically. "Dehduh." Your articulation's still not quite up to par, but your intent was unmistakable as you thumped yourself emphatically on the chest. I'm not a baby. I'm Evan. No kidding.

You're not a baby. You're Evan. And today, you are 2. In the past several weeks, multiple people have asked me if you've had a growth spurt or a language explosion or a haircut or something. I don't know that you've had any of those things, and yet, somehow I understand why they're asking. It's as if overnight the last of the baby in you is gone, replaced by a confidence and a swagger (and alas, a temperament) which is 100% toddler.

You're not a baby. You're Evan. You give fierce hugs and open mouthed kisses that melt my heart. You sit for hours on the floor assembling puzzles (which you call "yays" because we all say "yay!" when you complete one), but when you're finished, you have to run around the house screaming a few times to burn off some energy. You have an obsession with all things Sesame Street which borders on the extreme. You fling your plate off the table when you don't want any more to eat (still working on that one). You've got basic skills like letters and numbers down cold, but have no concept of color whatsoever. You kiss characters in books to show that you've enjoyed a story. You like to throw yourself on top of people who are lying on the ground in a dive bomb move which looks pretty darn scary to me but cracks you up to no end. You flirt shamelessly with all of Julia's friends. Your "sucking fingers" are always in your mouth. Your articulation is appalling, but your determination to fix your errors and make yourself understood is sweetly admirable. You are a gentle boy and at the same time, you are all boy. Other kids love you. Adults love you. And I love you most of all. My crush on you only deepens with time, it seems, because I am completely besotted. I know that less desirable stages lie ahead. But for now, for today, I'm busy just soaking up the joy that is you on the cusp of two.

You're not a baby. You're Evan. And yet, sometimes, if I catch you in the right mood and ask if you're a baby or a big boy, you'll smile sweetly at me and say "Dehduh. Mommy baby." I'm Evan. Mommy's baby. Damn straight, kiddo.

Happy birthday, baby. I love you.

Love,
Mommy