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December 06, 2010

Happy Two Years and One Month, Cormac

IMGP4539.jpg, originally uploaded by Daddy Shawn.

Oh, Corm! I must apologize to you, my (clearly) second child. I meant to properly commemorate your birthday on this blog a month ago. I had myself convinced that once I finally plowed through my ever-expanding to-do list for work, I would write you the birthday letter that you deserve, telling the world how you continually raise the bar for cute and bring such a jovial spirit to our home. But alas, that time kept escaping me, and here we are a month later. Well, Cormac, there are some things you should know about your two-year-old self.

Your personality is utterly delightful. You're pretty much a universal crowd pleaser—adults, children, and even people who tell me "I don't usually like kids very much!" love you. You smile easily, laugh heartily, and warm instantly to pretty much anyone. You're like a little 30lb. walking party. As soon as you hear music, you start dancing. (And OH! we have got to post the videos of this.) You very rarely cry when you fall down. When you split open your eyebrow, you cried the loudest when you saw someone walk by with piece of pizza that you wanted. Speaking of food, when you see some sort of food you like, you exclaim "YOGURT!" or "PIZZA!" or "FRENCH FRIES!" and punch your fists in the air. In this way, you are totally my son.

When you see something funny, you're the one laughing the loudest. Best of all, when you see me or Daddy, you come running and literally tackle us with hugs. You're also pretty chill for a two-year-old. I imagine you as a tiny version of Matthew McConaughey's character in Dazed and Confused. When you finally start talking in full sentences, I expect you to implore me to "Just keep livin', man. L-I-V-I-N."

All this does not mean that you're not also a typical two-year-old. You express non-violent protest frequently by collapsing into a writhing mass of bellowing bones. Other times, you kick it up to violent protest by pulling hair or hitting when you're really mad. (Which swiftly lands you in time-out.) But you can pretty easily be defused, and it's not long before you're laughing it all off, hugging it out.

And your vibrant joie de vivre means that you are the worst sleeper since Finn Hazen. Why sleep when you could be dancing? To me, it's 3am, to you, it's party time. When I put you down for the evening, you screamscreamscream. When I come back for what I consider my encore of tucking you in, you stand up, smile conspiratorially, and hug me. When I go to leave again, you up the ante, adorably point out my nose, hair, or teeth. I basically have to convince you that Mommy is tired and boring right now. The party's over! Go to sleep!.

You and Finn totally enjoy each other and have finally reached the point where you spend most of the time playing together. Since you share a room, there are lots of nights when stuffed animals fly back and forth, giggling carries on way past lights-out, and someone (Finn) ends up yelling "Mama! Tell him to stop being silly and go to bed!"

You're convinced that pretty much anything Finn does is the best idea ever. Especially when it's not. You spend pretty much all day studying his movements and mimicking them to the best of your ability. Waiting for him to say something so you can laugh uproariously about it. (Even when it's not funny.) Waiting for him to take a step so you can lunge at him with a full body tackle. It should be noted that you are all boy in your pure physicality.

When someone asked Finn what it was like having a two-year-old in the house, he said, "I'll tell you. It's not easy. When he hits you, you can't even hit him back." Amen, Finn. But Cormac, I'll have you know that you also bring such happiness, personality and light to our home, and that I'm grateful for you every single day. (I suspect Finn is, too.)

Posted by lisa at December 6, 2010 02:08 PM

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