When did you learn to put your legs in separate holes in your pants?
When did you stop screaming at the sound of a telephone as if a UFO had landed on our dining room table?
When did you stop going up the stairs on your knees?
When did you start talking? First one word, now two, cleverly strung together.
Where did your blond hair come from?
Why do I never tire of seeing the dimple in right cheek?
When did you become the World's Most Irresistible Snuggler?
Why is the chocolate chip in your left eye the most charming thing I think I've ever seen?
Where did you learn to dance?
When did you start looking at the stereo, demanding, "GaGa!!!"
When did you learn to catch almost anything?
How are you drinking out of a glass and gently putting it in the sink when you're finished?
How do you always manage to get into the fridge when I'm not looking?
Why do you predominatly growl instead of talk?
When did you grow out of your onesies, and soon your diapers?
Why are you so stingy with your kisses, but always make it worth the wait?
When did you become so observant? Light. Dark. Cold. Warm. Bright. Shiny. Boy. Girl.
Why do you like to eat crayons and glue sticks?
How is your wispy hair the only lingering reminder of a baby that once was?
Who taught you how to throw the worst fits in the northern hemisphere?
Who gave you the ability to charm any woman between the ages of 35 and 65? It certainly was not your Dad.
My boy, where did your second year go? I sort of want it back.
*He turned two in November, but I never posted about this momentous occassion.*
