as the noonday

Dear Sam,

Yesterday you hit the ripe-old age of two years, ten months. With each passing week you are resembling a real boy. Your body is long and lean and muscular. You are running like a kid, no more arms and legs akimbo. You stick your hands in your pockets and laugh at jokes. It's crazy. 

I find myself looking at you so often these days and saying or thinking, "Man, I just LOVE that kid!" You are sweet and funny, engaging and hilarious, full of dance moves and robot sound effects, and best of all, full of joy. You bring such laughter to our house. Our home is brighter, lovelier, happier, and more joyful because of you, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

As much as you love your Daddy, you are still a Mama's boy. You ask me to "lie down" with you every night, patting the bed or your pillow, inviting me to stay with puppy dog eyes and "sleep me." When I leave it often involves tears and pleading for more snuggle time (if you haven't fallen asleep with your arms tangled around my neck.) You are a snuggler of the highest order. Such a love. A cuddling savant, perhaps. (A mama can dream). Tonight I lay between you and Maddie on her twin bed to surround sound of "I love you Mama!" and kisses and hugs galore. It was like the best drug one could ever imagine. Pure bliss.

Not that it's all snuggles and joy these days. You have quite a naughty streak. One day you were quiet (first alert to a problem) and occupied downstairs. I found you beneath the kitchen table with an almost-empty bag of potty-training m&ms. Your face and hands were COVERED in red, green, and chocolate brown. "CAH-NNY!" you screamed as your wild eyes found mine. And that was just one incident in a week FULL of candy sneaking. We've learned our lesson and moved the candy/cookies/chocolate to high, unreachable places. Not like that stops you. At Grammy & Papa's house it was even worse. You sunk to all-time lows with your sneaky, candy-stealing behavior. (But they thought it was pretty darn funny).

You are SO happy outside, content to run and skip and jump and play and spin away! If you have Maddie and Mama nearby, a field to explore, and a snack at hand, you are content. :) You are adventurous and brave, climbing on top of things, scrambling over obstacles, scaring us at times with your agility, ability, and total and complete lack of fear. I anticipate a trip to the ER this year with you.

More and more you speak in these long, repetitive strains of somewhat intelligible words. 90% of the time I know what you're saying. Often it goes something like this, such as when you found out we were going to play at Jacob's house: "Jake-Jake how, me." (I'm going to Jacob's house). "Yeah. Robot ha, woo-tuck hat, ba-doo ba-doo gum, robot gum, yeah." (Robot hat, fireman hat, guns). "Jake-Jake, robot ha. Jake-Jake pay me, now. PEEE!" (Jacob has a robot hat. Jacob play with me? now? Please?!!!) It is SO cute. You call Maddie Maa-Maa and the other day you were cracking yourself up (rightly so) when she was running around in the batman cape and you kept calling after her, "Bat-Maa-Maa, Bat-Maa-Maa!!" A play on words! Amazing! 

For months, I could call you just about anything and you'd allow it. "Are you my snuggly-buggly boo bear? My honey love bumpkins? My kissy-boy?" "Yeah," you'd reply. This month you really surprised me when one day I asked, "Sam, are you my little lovey boy." "NO!" You shouted, "Big, big, big, big, BIG man!" 

We are just so thrilled with the little person (BIG MAN) you've become. You are inquisitive and smart, funny and fun, loving and kind-hearted. You are all boy, all the time, preferring guns, trucks, robots and weapons to just about anything else. And I hope I never forget the way you stick tools down the sides of your pull-up, hammer and wrench and sword and gun and even baseball bat vying for space around your tiny little waist. Eventually your pull-up becomes a fall-down and we all laugh at your little booty sticking out, tools and weapons held tight against your thighs. Thanks for all the laughs, the cuddles, and the joy.

Love,

Mama