First, the standard apology in advance: That thing where your sister and her friends blow out your candles for you, that's going to happen again. But a side apology to them, too, because this time you'll probably shriek like a banshee and possibly hit them.
Reading this initially made me a little nostalgic for that baby you used to be. You were so freaking sweet and malleable, back in the day. You were, as I noted "happy just to BE". What happened with that, kid? Your twoness is so intense, so powerful. But let's not focus on that today. Today's your birthday.
The charm skillz you had at one, you've honed to perfection at two. You greet everyone with a "HI DERE" and a wave and a smile. People tell me all the time that I should get you an agent (I am too lazy). But it's true, you make Shirley Temple look like an amateur.
You finally did learn your animal noises, no thanks to Molly. But you refuse to learn your colors. Everything is either pink or yellow to you, and you will argue like a lawyer with anyone who tries to tell you otherwise: "Let's put on your red shoes" "YEDDO" "No, these are red" "YEDDO" "Red, honey" "YEDDO YEDDO YEDDO". We don't think you're color blind, we think you just really don't care. And then, just when we think you aren't ever going to learn anything from anyone, you pull something out of the air that knocks us right out ("TIANGLE!")
You have manners, after a fashion. You'll say thank you ("GECKO!") unprodded, but you sometimes need a push to say please (and then you'll often just give a desultory sign rather than say it out loud against your will). You like any opportunity to say "you're welcome" ("YO WECKIN!").
You're a terrific little sister, even as you've begun to assert your independence. You'll patiently play the role of the baby, or the sick person, or the superhero sidekick. You take turns. You help pick up afterward. You let Molly dress you up. You don't hit her back, yet.
In case you didn't catch this, you've got the funniest little voice. Deep and raspy like an old bluesman, with the odd syntax of all two year olds: "MO 'NACK PEESE NOW?" You grunt like Slingblade. Listening to you, whatever you're saying, is a crackup.
Speaking of 'NACK...er, snacks. Your appetite isn't as universal as it used to be, but you'll still try anything once. You eat broccoli like it's ice cream. You like blue cheese. You aren't crazy about bacon, for some reason. You're getting the hang of utensils (finally).
Every night you throw everything out of your crib (you still haven't figured out how to climb out of it, despite being a daredevil, so we're in no hurry to put you in a bed). Then, a couple minutes after you've tossed out the last blanket, you fall peacefully asleep. It's bewildering.
Today you were the center of attention--but you generously allowed your big sister and her friends (your other big sisters, as far as your concerned) to help you open presents and play with them. You were a great hostess. We're still going to keep you.
