Ryder, I can’t believe you’re two. Not because the time seems to have gone by so fast. It has. But more so because it feels like you’ve been at least two for the past six months.
Your vocabulary is insane. You’ve been stringing sentences together effortlessly for awhile now, and I’m constantly shocked at what comes out of your mouth. I love it.
You are a brute. You must be the size of an average three-year-old. You know how to use your size to your advantage, but you’re also a big sweetheart.
My absolute favorite latest thing is you jumping into my arms whispering “protect me… protect me” and giving me huge snuggles. This is originated a few weeks back when I took you to the park alone, you heard something in the distance (and later the rustling of a tree we were playing underneath), and you wanted me to pick you up. I did, and I told you I’d protect you.
I don’t get the cuddles you give your mom, so I savor these moments when I do.
You love to bust into my office, climb onto my chair, put on my head phones and start mashing on my keyboard, exclaiming you’re working. You are hilarious and a complete joy.
You can throw some epic fits, and we butt heads from time to time. I love that you don’t back down. I love that the fits and rage can end as quickly as they started. You don’t seem to hold grudges; that will serve you well in life.
You are social, a complete extrovert. It’s amazing how quickly we recognized that.
We need to spend more time alone like we did that day at the park. It felt good. I had the chance to bond with your brother when you were born while mom was laid out after the c-section for awhile. I haven’t had that time with you. I need to make it. I will.
Happy birthday, my man!