Happy 2nd Birthday, Mr. Blue!

My baby boy turned two years old on Saturday. We had a small party since I believe in keeping parties low-key (and inexpensive) as long as I can. My parents and brother came, and a couple of other toddlers and their parents (and one older sibling who is my daughter's best friend, so that was great for her). We have a small house, so it ended up being perfect for the amount of people who came. (Still, the insecure part of me wished the other two invitees, both boys, could have come. Oh well, all the kids had a great time.)

The kids ran around and played, mostly with ordinary balloons, until it was time for cake and presents. I made these cupcakes, and they were amazing. While I clearly do not have an alternative career as a cake decorator, I learned that I CAN bake from scratch, and butter and sugar and cocoa are much more tasty than chemicals in a mix. (Duh, right?)

Mr. Blue loved his party and was very sweet to his friends and family, because that's just the kind of guy he is. I keep waiting for the sentimentality of "OMG I'm losing mah baby" to hit me, as it has one of my friends, who is tortured by the idea of moving her nearly three-year-old youngest child out of his crib into a big-boy bed. ("But you know he's not going to be able to fit into it when he leaves for college," I told her in a mock-reasonable tone. Such a supportive friend I am, with the mocking.)

So far, I am okay with Mr. Blue reaching the ripe old age of two. I love that he talks all the time, even as much as his sister, and it even makes me laugh that if you do not respond to him, he will repeat his statement over and over, in a louder tone each time, until you do. I love that he says "Tank oo Mommy" almost every time now, but when you remind him to say please, he says, "Say pease" like a little parrot. I love when he says, "I go get it," and "I be wight back." I love the way he plays with his toys and the way he wants to "look at aminals" on cuteoverload.com. Most of all, I love the way he turns back into a baby when he's sleepy and wants "Mommy rock" (NOT Daddy) and I can hold him and sing to him for a few precious minutes, which feels like the ever-shortening amount of time left for him to be small enough to hold like this.

No, I'm not sentimental at all. (sniff)

I'll let you know if it hits when he starts school.