My two-year-old

Note: I found this essay in my drafts folder and remember now that I didn’t post it because it felt too mushy, too saccharine, too much. Looking back on it several months later (Clark turned two in late July), it feels just right. He already seems much older than he was this summer, but still just as sweet.

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Well, my sweet boy, you are two. I stop myself every time I think, "How can you be two years old already!" because, in fact, you are so obviously and perfectly two. You are our best buddy, our silly trickster, our early morning snuggler, our beautiful, wild two-year-old boy. 

Once again, your birthday has come around and I'm frantically searching my journals, my phone, scraps of paper and feeling the inadequacy of my notes. No amount of words, no number of poems could adequately describe the depth of my love for you, Clark Wilder. I knew we'd love you, I knew it would be hard, but I didn't know I'd love you this much and I certainly didn't know how hard it would sometimes be. These are the longest days and shortest years of our lives. I wrote a note on my phone this year: Everything is harder now, everything is sweeter now. That's how every day feels.

Everything is harder now, everything is sweeter now.

You fill us with such love and tenderness; your laugh brings me to my knees with its beauty and the feel of your little juice-covered, sticky little hands in mine is a much-needed salve.

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You wake us up with a kiss, taking my face in your hands and saying "Wake Mommy!" You love hiding and sneaking up on people and playing with your bear, puppy, lion, froggie and ducky. You love that darned Peppa Pig and, of course, Elmo and Curious George. Your new favorite is the Wild Kratts and their creature adventures. I think you fall asleep every night dreaming of popsicles. You know your colors and a lot of numbers and animals. You look up for airplanes and clouds and "hoppy birdies".

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You pick up rocks and sticks and jump in every puddle you see. I don't know if you look like me anymore or just your daddy, but you look damn good. You have friends at school and at night pretend to call them all on the phone, or the remote control or sometimes through a secured line on a calculator. You color and make snakes with Play Dough and climb and jump on everything.

You are the sweetest boy I've ever met. Thank you for being you.

I like to think of the last photo as Clark’s face when he learns to read and eventually finds this sappy love note from his mom :)