I have a two-year-old. It’s alarming and wonderful, and we had a great day celebrating his birthday. He started the day with a new tea set, a recycling truck, and some new books. He watched more Laurie Berkner videos and ate cookies and peanuts and waffles for breakfast. It was a day of forbidden decadence. We took him to a lovely place devoted entirely to trains, where he rode a train and a carousel and had a grand time. He’s wiped out from the overstimulation of it all, but he’s happy.
I plan to write him a two-year letter sometime this week. Any of you who have been around since his birth probably notice that they haven’t happened since he was one. I’m not sure I planned it that way; it just happened. I’m also planning a return of the crocodile photo. Again, later, when everyone has gotten some rest.
And then there’s the matter of the flaming on my last post. I’ll get to that too, I suppose, although I don’t know why someone needed to come out of lurkerdome for that. Ugh. Kind of marred my mood, and I’m pissed that I’m wasting my energy thinking about it.
For now, I’m getting some rest because it seems the birthday has brought with it a cold.