On the occasion of her Second Birthday.

Today you are two years old. Really? That’s it? Because most days I forget your age and automatically assume that you’re at least three. Maybe four. You are still my sweet baby, but there is no denying the fact that you are placing your feet firmly in the realm of Big Girl Land.
When a person asks you how old you are, you quickly reply, “GREAT!” Everything is GREAT in your little world, and for this I am glad. You are always quick to smile, quick to giggle, quick to give out hugs. You are also quick in your temper, but we’ll get back to that in a minute.
In the past year you have grown from a bald, crawling baby that didn’t talk much into a mullet-haired, running child that never stops talking. In complete sentences, mind you. Using phrases like, “Of course!” and “Absolutely!” quite often. Mostly when your sister asks you to do something somewhat dangerous. Another favorite phrase? “That’s pretty cool.” Your command of the English language is immense, thus causing your mother to forget your age. Almost two year old babies should not say things like, “Can you get me that white dog from over there? Please?” Yet you do. Daily. Listening to the little conversations between you and your sister are a daily source of entertainment.

Speaking of Avery, the two of you are amazing. Your personalities are so very different, but you love each other just the same. You are both happiest when you’re in the company of each other. My dream of raising sisters is complete. I know that your relationship will ebb and flow through the years, but the ties that will bind you are being formed now. It is humbling in so many ways to be a small part of that.
Should we talk about milestones? I guess we should. A little. You know most of your colors. You know some letters, but not all. You’re getting there. You love to count. You are quick and sure footed and you love to run. Running is WAY cooler than walking. You can name lots of animals, lots of things, lots of places. You can sing little songs, but you often tell me to stop singing. You and your sister are alike in this way. No one wants to let Mama sing! I try not to let it hurt my precious, fragile feelings.
You are warm and giving in your affection, this much is true. But you are also feisty. I know that one day this “feistiness” will translate into assertiveness, and this particular personality trait will serve you well. For now though? It just makes your Mommy tired. This is a typical exchange:
Me: “Zoe, can you stop doing that please?” (Usually standing on a table, chair, etc.)
You: “I can’t.”
Me: “Why?”
You: “Just because.”
Me: “No really, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
You: “I don’t want to!” <insert pouty lip here>

Sometimes when you are reprimanded, you’ll lash out by trying to slap the offending party. This is something I never had to deal with with your sister, so I’m making things up as I go. Whereas she was (and still is) terribly afraid of the dread TIME OUT, you think it’s funny. We’re still trying to figure out the best way to discipline you. Here’s an example of what happens when you’re told “No”.

The person who can make you the maddest is (and probably always will be) the sister you love so much. You HATE it when she takes something away from you. The funny thing is that all she has to do is ask you for whatever it is she wants, and you will give it up freely. The problem is trying to get her crazy self to ask instead of take. We’re working on it.
You are still madly in love with your father. You can go from kicking and screaming in my arms to cuddling and positively cooing when he takes over. He is your version of baby Prozac. In his arms you are instantly calmed, instantly at peace. I still haven’t figured out how he does it, but I bet it has to do with the fact that he’s not here all day. As soon as he walks in the door every night, you’re on top of him. He finds it positively annoying. (Where’s my sarcasm font?)
You love your extended family, with Aunt Kelly and Uncle Shannon being your favorites. Not necessarily in that order. Sorry, Aunt Kelly. Uncle Shannon is just way cooler than you. As a matter of fact, you’ve never really met anyone you didn’t like. All it takes is a glance from a stranger and you are turning on the charm. This, combined with that feistiness we talked about, will surely make you a force to be reckoned with when it comes to high school. And boys. Lord help me. Thankfully you will have your levelheaded, mellow sister to help guide you and (hopefully) keep your little butt out of trouble.
All in all, I cannot complain one bit. You definitely have an attitude, but it is so nicely balanced by your complete and utter sweetness. Every weekday morning, you lay in the bed with me after you get out of your crib. You suck your thumb and play with my messy hair. You look into my eyes with those insanely blue peepers and I feel that I might surely die right there from the intensity of it all. Then you look at me and say, “Mommy get your glasses! I can have a waffle for breakfast?” So I stand up, and you stand up, then you jump into my arms and we begin our day. I honestly can’t imagine any better way to start a day.
You are our little blonde firecracker. You have made this family complete in so many amazing ways. I am blessed to be your mother, and I think I can speak for your Daddy and say that he feels the same. I will not say you are perfect, none of us are. But I will say that there is not one little thing I would ever change about you.

Zoe, you are two today. And you are still and always my baby. Even if I tend to forget that most days.
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay