Happy Second Birthday!

Happy Birthday, dear Liam! You've brought your GrandMary enormous joy over the past two years. You're a jolly, active, loving, smart, inquisitive little boy, and I love you beyond all measure. I look forward to watching you grow and laugh and learn for years to come. Happy, Happy Birthday!

What a 2-Year-Old Doesn't Know

Having just spent a week fully in charge of GrandBoy as his parents took a much needed vacation, I was constantly reminded of how much a 2-year-old knows. Things like complicated words and concepts, adult manipulation techniques, rapid escape maneuvers are easy breezy. But as smart as the little dickens is, I discovered a few things that a 2-year-old doesn't know, and I'm happy to share the knowledge.

1. A 2-year-old doesn't know that a GrandMary can't get up and down as quickly as a 2-year-old. There's just not as much juice in the joints and not built as close to the ground. This frustrates a 2-year-old. And a 60-year-old.
2. A 2-year-old doesn't know that his GrandMary lives in Spanish Harlem, a mere five stories above a busy street and the Metro North commuter train line. Noise does not phase her. All the whining and tantrum-tossing in the world is just so much white noise. This frustrates a 2-year-old. It does not frustrate a 60-year-old (who lives in Spanish Harlem).
3. A 2-year-old doesn't understand the difference between shampoo and real poo. A 2-year-old certainly knows about poo (and isn't afraid to let you know it). But the word "shampoo" is confusing to him, especially when GrandMary wants to put it on his head. All he hears is "poo." And not even a 2-year-old wants poo in his hair.

Other than that, a 2-year-old pretty much knows everything a 60-year-old knows. And until the shampoo situation sorts itself out, I'll just call it soap. Nobody wants poo in their hair.

Heartbreaker

This picture of GrandBoy is tacked up next to my desk at work. It's a proof of one of his preschool pictures. Daughter told me they weren't expecting the photo, thinking school pictures had been taken mid-week, and GrandBoy is in preschool on Mondays and Fridays. But a photographer was there and a GrandBoy got to shine.

So here he is, crazy monkey hair going every which way, wearing his dinosaur shirt. I love the way his little mouth is drawn up, ready to explode with a belly-laugh. I love the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the way he's tentatively holding the side of his seat.

Whenever I glance over at the picture, it makes me smile. But there's also something sweetly heartbreaking about the expression on his face. I just want to pick him up and give him a big hug. The picture makes me happy, but it also reminds me of how much I miss the little guy.