My Leo

It's almost incredible to me that it's been two years since you were born, Sweet Leo.  Two years ago today was your due date.  Two years ago today was Mother's Day, and two years ago today you were nine days old.  At the same time, it feels like we just laid eyes on each other and that you have been here my entire life.  You are, in a way that only you can be, a complete enigma.

You and me, two years ago today

 I would attempt a birthday interview with you, but I know how it would
go.  Despite my questions, your responses would be along the lines of:

-Did you see that bug?  There he is (and you say it so that it sounds just like "areas.")

-I want to watch a show.  Cars.  Now.  Sit, Mommy, sit. 

-No, Mommy.  NO!  Mommy, NO!  AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

-L. E. O. That's Leo.

-Sawwy, Mommy.

-No.  No.  Noooooooo.

-I want chocolate milk and a snack.  (Or, in Leo language, "I want
knock-a-moke-an-nack.")

-I want to eat. Hungry, Mommy.  Cookies and (s)nack, Mommy? 

Leo, Mommy, and Daddy 5/9/10

Leo Walden, you march to the beat of your own drummer.  You don't care
much what anyone else is doing, you do your own thing.  (Your Uncle Wes calls you "Honey Badger, as in "Honey Badger don't care.")  You do everything.  You are up here, down there, over that-a-way and back here again in less than a second.  You can douse the couch in hairspray and coat the toilet in Aquafor in the same day.  Rather, in the same hour.  You continue to surprise me with little gifts in my drinks.  Whatever I'm eating, you want.  It doesn't matter if it is exactly what you have on your plate, you want mine instead (we share this trait.  Apparently, food envy is hereditary.)  You make me laugh.  All day long.

May 2011, One year old

You won't remember these first few years together, but your dad and I will.  I will always, always cherish our frequent high-fives, fist-bumps, head-butts, and couch tosses.  I will miss knocking on your thick little skull like it's the front door, only to get a slight look of annoyance from you out of the corner of your eye.  I'll miss the way you snuggle into my neck and how you say "Love, Mama"  ("Fwuv, Mommy.")  I'll miss how you refer to yourself as the baby.  ("The baby is so tired.  The baby is so bad.  The baby did it.  The baby watch a show.")

Leo, 18 months

You see, you'll have to grow up.  As much as I cannot wait to see who you turn into, I cannot bear the thought of your growing out of my arms.  As aloof as you can be, you are still my little lap-boy...well, not so little, I guess.  We lovingly call you our Man-Child, because as large as you are in size, you are also in personality. You're a 22-year-old frat boy in the body of a two-year-old boy.  See?  An enigma.

Easter, 2012

Leo, it won't be until you have your own children that you will be able to recognize the true joy you have brought into our lives.  From the minute you were born, I felt lucky to be chosen to raise you.  I can remember the exact feeling that washed over me the minute I laid eyes on you.  You and I share a secret that is only ours to share.  I don't even know what it is yet, but you and me?  We get each other.  I may say that I don't know where you came from (in terms of this big attitude of yours), but that's not the truth.  I know exactly where you came from.  You are my kind. 

Classic Leo

On your birthday, I kept reminding you what day it was.  You didn't really care much, aside from the ice cream cake we had.  I wanted something from you.  I wanted you to say or do something very cute and birthday appropriate, so that I had a clear memory of you on your 2nd birthday.  And, never one to disappoint, you gave me that.  I asked how old you were.  Matter-of-factly, while grabbing yourself, you proudly said, "I'm two.  And I have a pee-pee."  Yes, you are and yes, you do, my little
buddy.  Thanks for being you.  There isn't another baby in the entire world I would want you to be.  Happy birthday from your mother...your biggest fan.