Dear Little Owie Bowie,
Today, you are TWO years old. An awesome time of life, my friend. You are so much fun these days. You make me belly laugh every single one of them.
What a year it's been for you, little guy! I was writing you a letter in the end of last year's journal and remembering the day I bought that book, last January 1st. You were a little baby riding around in the Ergo, not quite walking, and not quite ready to ever leave my presence. And now you're a little boy -- walking and talking, running and jumping, playing and pretending, brave and affectionate to all of your family, and pretty much everyone you meet. You are a wonderfully funny and sweet person. We are so lucky to have you as ours. Bobby loves you so much -- he's constantly covering you with kisses and hugging and loving on you, and wanting you to play with him. I'm pretty sure you are the main reason he quit preschool after trying it out this year; he just couldn't bear to be apart from you. You usually follow him around like a slightly smaller shadow, copying everything he says and does. You are the Luigi to his Mario, the Raphael to his Donatello, the Skywalker to his Leia. It's a beautiful brotherhood you two share.
Dad and I are crazy about you, too. You are a total sweetheart, always ready to dole out hugs and kisses. My favorite: I say, "Where's my kiss? and you say, "Zight hee-ah," tapping your tiny index finger on your lips before you smack it on me. Also: "Goodnight, Daddy-o," as Dad puts you in my lap on the rocking chair after saying goodnight. Poor Dad you love, but you also love to attack; when you're Raphael you've constantly got to "Get that Shredder!" and when you're Skywalker it's "Whack Vader!" and of course, Dad has to be all the big bad guys. "Zou ah bad duy, Vadeh!" you cry, bashing him with a section of pool noodle, your "lightsaver." Dad is a good sport and plays along most of the time.
As much as you love your battling, you're a lover too. You love snuggling and kissing and making me kiss all of your buddies and cute little guys you find. You do a sweet little cutie voice when you pretend to talk as one of them. You're a snuggler -- you still like to come into mom and dad's bed in the night sometimes. You're often good until morning in your crib, but other nights you just want to lay between us. You pull up the covers and whisper, "Dad is Sheddah; Mom is Zee-nahdo," and snuggle in to sleep. We love it; you are just too precious to resist. (Okay, Dad doesn't love it when you literally kick him out of the bed and he has to sleep on the couch.)
You are the best little helper, always eager to clean up your toys or get me the dustpan or whatever I need. I appreciate it so much, and hope you stay this way forever!
You love to draw and paint and you are obsessed with purple -- I don't think I've ever met a toddler who cares so much about a color. Your second choice: green -- Luigi color. So silly and strange and amazing you are.
You love to eat and some days you spend most of the morning having an extended breakfast.
Every morning you start the day with a banana; you run into the kitchen pretty much first thing when we get downstairs. "Want your banana, Owie?" "Zup!"
Love you SO much, Owen.