Man, 2 years. Some days it feels like it's been 10 years, and some days it feels like 2 months. I treated myself to a little trip down Memory Lane and looked through my slew of Benjamin baby pictures (diehards should look at some old blog entries for reference).
My first reaction was, "Uhh, who is this baby?" There seriously are some pictures that look nothing like present day Benjamin, like someone inserted a picture of a stand-in stunt baby.
My second reaction was, "He was sooo tiny!" He was definitely larger than your average newborn baby, but there are some pics that it looks like I'm hugging a Kaiser roll smothered in blankets. A far cry from the 35lb squirming barbell that he is today.
My third reaction was the fact that I didn't really miss his super tiny days. Newborn babies, while cute, are more like nurturing a science experiment. You are constantly monitoring it, checking it for new data (or poo-poo), and anxiously awaiting for a breakthrough moment. The fun really kicked in 10 months later when you actually feel like there is some give-n-take between the two of you.
So what do you get after 24 months? Your first grey hair, seriously. I saw one on the side of my head today and it had Benjamin's new "personality" written all over it. In some instances he seeks total independence and self-sufficiency, in others he is lovingly holding my hand and leading me around the house to either show me something or so that I can help reach/get/grab/pour something for him. The trick is that his personality swings from moment to moment, and you're not sure which moment you're in until, well you're in it.
After 24 months you also get a 2 year old's birthday party. Okay, not to be a big-timer, but this little shindig some how eclipsed the $200 price tag. I GUARANTEE you I never had a birthday party when I was a kid that cost Two Bills. "But Dale, you must have flown everyone to the Bellagio and treated people to Pegasus riding lessons?"
Umm... we rented a church's indoor playground for two hours and had some chicken nuggets with juice boxes. Two Bills. And the playground violated my cardinal rule, don't swap a "z" for an "s" just to make it "kool."
Don't get me wrong, the Pajama Party themed event seemed to be a huge hit with a full compliment of pajama-ed friends and family having a squealing good time. I was just sticker shocked by what a modern day, somewhat modest birthday party cost. What made it swallowable was seeing a flush-faced Benjamin run around the playground, riding on slides, climbing up cushions and downing Capri-Suns® like a marathon runner.
And because I'm the no-fun parent, we only let him have about 1/3 of his presents and the rest went in the closest for a rainy day surprise or to donate during a toy drive. He has way too much stuff. I don't know how it happened, it all snuck in somehow and accumulated in various depots around the house.
His big birthday gift item was a tricked out handyman workstation with all kinds of little tools, bits and pieces. He is a little too young to actually build the projects, but he loves dressing up and hammering stuff. And his OCD comes out when all of the tools aren't put back into place at the end of a work session. Sure, I'll take the credit/blame for that behavior.
All in all, he is still my little baby boy right now, and I know that they will change pretty quickly. But I take comfort knowing that he will forever be my little buddy no matter how old he gets. Happy Birthday Benjamin.
1 comment:
Hmmmm. Better hope the number of "bills" will not increase each year to match his age, ha!
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