2 year old Sawyer

 

  

 

 

My boy. Getting all grown up. At two years old he stands 39 inches tall and weighs 33 lbs.  He's got a monster of a noggin' that he carries around with that big little body and it's amazing to see what goes in and comes out of his mind.  I love the things that are all his own, like how he designates the different places we like to frequent; the bus shop, fishie shop, wee-oooo park, plane park and how he inquires about making a visit, "Shop? Bus shop. Bus shop? Yes? Mama tum? OK." He gets that all out before I can ever get a word in. And after all that raw initiative how could I possibly say no?

When I do say no, we get to experience some of the infamous terrible twos, but done in Sawyer's style.  He tries to reason and cut a deal with me. "Un More?" "Bus shop? Oh no, fishie shop?" "No, no sleep. Shop?" "No thank you, chockit snack peez!" His "no, thank you" is one of my absolute. favorite. things.  He's had a hard time adjusting to the new children's nursery at church, and where he used to bolt out of the chapel to meet his little friend in the hall and hold his hand all the way up the stairs and into class to play, we now find ourselves peeling his limp frame off our our arms and legs as he tried to suction himself to our appendages so we won't leave him. Once free, all the way down the hall we can hear him banging on the inside of the door and crying, "No thank you! No thank you!" It's heart breaking. And adorable.

He's very sweet to his little sister and I melt when he gets down in her face and levels some baby talk at her in a sweet, smooth, high-pitched voice.  He loves trying to hold her. He loves tickling her. He loves taking her toys. But he really hasn't been jealous or rough or mean with her and I've been so impressed with his ability to handle all of our big transitions. He's really only ever hard on me, and those episodes are distanced enough that I'm usually not overwhelmed by them and, thankfully, have the patience I need to help him work through his feelings.

Mostly, I'm just amazed at my Lucky boy and left wondering about how I'll ever be able to raise this spectacular kid when I can already feel him leaving me in the dust.  That's the hope though, isn't it? That each generation build off the former and one day when we're old and grey we can sit in the middle of a room, surrounded by our family, our legacy, and see how great our family has grown to be.  I have that hope. But for now, I'm quite content with my chestnut locks and my little strawberry blonde, just the two of us cuddled up and watching cartoons.