1,051,200 Minutes of The Goose

To My Dearest, who is Two in Two Days (but nowhere near Terrible):

It's simultaneously possible and not possible that you've been with us for two years (1,051,200 minutes ... i.e., 525,600 minutes x2). Since your birth, I feel like I have been on a long, long journey. Not really a vacation, but definitely a trip. An adventure. At times long and difficult. Other times fast and fun. Definitely worth it.

In the early months, it was like we were touring somewhere in the far northern hemisphere. Somewhere really cold and scary, yet beautiful. A place where the aurora borealis flames wildly in the sky and yet everyone just acts like nothing extraordinary is going on. A place where there is never day ... or is it night? I forget now, because to me (to YOU), there was no difference.

Then there was The Honeymoon Trip: The Good Ole Days, between three and six months, when you had figured out that Mama likes to sleep at night.

It was before you could crawl, stand, or even sit. It was great. I would hold you and nurse you or alternately put you down on the floor and come back to find you between two and fifteen feet away from the spot where I left you. In. One. Minute. Flat. You'd just roll around while awake and then take two to three naps a day. Yes, at this point I think we had travelled to one of those all-inclusive places in the Caribbean, where there's a lot of sand and sun and people who bring you drinks (or numerous packages of saltine crackers) on the beach. I think I maxed out my library card during this time, because I had so much free time.

After six months, there was Crawling Stage -- during this part I picture us somewhere in a third-world country -- India? Africa? A place where there are lots of partially domesticated animals running loose in the streets pooping. In my mind, during this stage, the ground was always dirty, and you always wanted to be crawling around down there amongst the dirt and poop, tasting everything and getting skinned knees. This wasn't my favorite stage, but it was much better than the Aurora Borealis days.

Walking.

I loved it. It was like all of a sudden it didn't matter as much whether or not the floor was filthy! And, we weren't in India/Africa anymore with the pseudo-domesticates. Now, we were somewhere in Europe where, granted, people smelled funny, but they at least spoke a language that didn't involve clicking sounds or references to reincarnation. We could go to the park and hang out in the yard or just take a little walk.

Talking. Ahhhh. I thought this would be like Coming Home. And it was the good ole U. S. of A. But instead of "home," it seems to be somewhere in Northern California ...

WHINE COUNTRY.

I couldn't WAIT for you to talk. I nursed you for 22 months because my biggest fear was that you might get a lot of ear infections that would delay your language acquisition. When, at 15 months, your only word was "clock," I started to get a little uneasy. Everybody said, "Be careful what you wish for."

And I do still dislike the whining. But the talking! I don't think I've laughed this hard since I was in middle school (at a Church Youth Group Lock-In) having one of those out-of-control, pee-in-your-pants giggle fits. I can't get enough of it. The vocabulary! The grammar! The syntax! The semantics! The sociolinguistic aspects!

And now ... these days of Big Boyness ... well, by now I guess I'm used to travelling. I'm sorta buying into that cliche about life being about the journey and not the destination. I can feel myself getting laugh lines and crow's feet just watching you live out your days.

Examples? Oh, you know me ...

You can pump up your own tires.

You can give, hands-down, The. Best. Kisses. Ever.

You can pose.

You like to eat.

You like to sleep.

(with a meow and an uff-uff)

You LOVE to read.

(about chickens taking rides in red pickup trucks)

You love to steal my heart with those cheeks.

You even like junk mail.

And you're not at all a troublemaker like most twos.

I'd be your travel partner any day of the week and twice on Thursdays.

Happy TWO Bubby!

ALL my love,

Mama