Happy BIrthday, Giblet

You are at the beach today.  You are two years old.  You don't realize that the world is weird.

I would like to be you.

You are your Dada's Mini-Me, from the backwards ball cap to the swagger, stopping off along the way at the tractors and the love.

Because, just like your Dada, you are all about the love. 

I yuh you was your first sentence, the first time you joined the conversation, the first time you could say in words what your body had been telling us all since the day you were born.  You are so happy to be where you are, and you can't wait to share that joy.

Even before you toddled, you managed to maneuver yourself into a hug... on the nearest available lap.... or dog.  You never stayed very long, being a perpetual motion machine, but the quality of the time spent more than outweighed its brevity.

And your smile - incoming and on the way out, your enthusiasm often overtaking reason and gravity and No, floor, No! comes right after Oh, NO! during your inevitable flops.  Undaunted, you are up and running.

Bruises be damned!  Full speed ahead!

You are exasperatingly delightful. Your face lights up into sparkles and your eyes twinkle with that I know I'm naughty but I'm also DAMN CUTE, aren't I???? look and suddenly Mama's headache from all your screaming vanishes.  Exasperatingly delightful.... or just plain charming?

Screaming is your default right now.  It's a phase.  It will pass, just as your deliciously chubby self has vanished, replaced by a sturdy little boy, standing on the top of the slide, arms flung overhead, announcing your presence with authority.

Happy Happy Birthday, Giblet!!  Gramma loves you very much.

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