It was a big weekend around these parts. Dexter turned two and celebrated the occasion with family, Mickey Mouse candles, pizza and gifts.
Two is something. Two is trying. Two is a little bipolar?
I feel like each age has its challenges. When we were still in the wee months, the challenge was being inexperienced and unknowledgeable. Those days were filled with not having any idea what the hell a cluster feed was and trying to figure out your "sleep training philosophy" (note: we are a cry it out family. Ain't no shame in our game). Then came the post 12 months era and the art of articulating something by not articulating anything at all. Use your words...that you don't have, little friend.
Well, now there is the speaking. The talking. The repeating. The shouting. The whining. The fake crying. Oh, yes. The fake crying that appears in seconds and disappears in nanoseconds. You sweet little magician.
There is also the singing. The running. The jumping. The dancing. The hugging. The cuddling.
Two is confusing.
And I hear three is worse. So there's that.
P.S. Two is also in need of a haircut.