With Bub, age two was a breeze. Three and four (and five it would seem) were MUCH more challenging. At two he had a penchant from running away from me, but he wasn’t whiney or prone to tantrums.
With our precious second child things would appear to be different. She can whine like a champ and has mastered the art of bursting into tears when she’s been wronged. Evidently, she spends much of her day being wronged.
All of that said, I think two is a really delightful age. Maybe it’s because there’s just so much change happening every day, that it’s easy to overlook the brain melting whining from the back seat. Maybe it’s just that she’s my very last baby and I prefer to focus on all that is good.
She says “bop” instead of bite, and she always wants a bit of whatever you have. Especially if it’s dessert. She calls Bub, “bro bro.”
She’s snuggly and likes to give “tisses” and “fweezes.” (Kisses and squeezes.) She will sit on my lap all day, as long as we’re taking iPhone pictures with the camera reversed so she can see herself.
Is Olilia. (Hand to God, she just walked up and said, “I see Olilia!”)
She likes big chunky necklaces and declares them all, “mah pretty! Me wear it!”
When we put her to bed, she’s wide awake and smiley. She wants all of her blankies just so, and then requests a friend to snuggle with. Sometimes she chooses all of the friends, and falls asleep desperately trying to keep Cookie Monster, Elmo, and Olivia (of course) all within her reach. More often than not, she’s sleeping on a pile of books when I check on her at night, and my heart swells with love for my tiny nerdlet.
If this is two, keep it coming.