Toddler turned 2 this weekend. His party was small and sweet, much like himself. He overdosed himself on his grandpa, loud toys requiring 201 stickers and WAY TOO MUCH frosting.
The infamous they say age 2 is harder than age 1 and that age 3 trials trump age 2. Following that logic, from the second they are born, it's all downhill until they (a) leave the house or (b) buy their own underwear.
I'm hoping they are wrong.
I love age 2. He's old enough to talk, yet young enough not to talk back. If I could, I think I'd like to hit the pause button right here for awhile.
I could now rant for paragraphs how I'm behind on everything, but I won't. BUT I AM! Ack, summer blogging is increasingly difficult. See you when I'm done with laundry or when my farmer tan is gone.