Of course we marked the day with a mustache - what other way is there for a two year old to celebrate her birthday morning? (Thanks to Mr. Potato Head, or as you call him - "HEAD!" - for lending out the 'stache.)
You're a kid now. Legit kid, with babyhood well behind you. I don't know what's happened in the last week or two, but the fast-forward button has been duct-taped down on you. All of a sudden, you're BIG. You are talking a blue streak (no idea what that means ... hang on ... I Googled it) and I can't keep up with you. You call me "your best mama" (which makes me wonder who these other "not the best mamas" are), and you've gone into time out twice at the same Applebee's (the waitstaff must think I'm the meanest mom ever, but by the time we were done time-outing, everyone could count to fifteen, damn it). You sing along with your favorite songs (Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Coldplay's Paradise, and you and I both are working out the lyrics to Channel Cairo) and you actively try to calm yourself down when you're upset, by saying, "Cry? No cry. Okay."
"Okay!" is your favorite word; you use it liberally, and in ALL CAPS. "Do you want to have oatmeal?" "OKAY!" "Would you like to play outside?" "OKAY!" Every time you say it, you manage to make it sound like the preceding question was your idea. And you've taken to calling your parents (ahem, us) by our first names. Especially in the morning, over the video monitor, when we're slow to evict ourselves from our bed. "Dada! Dada!" And you wait for a few seconds, then: "CHRIS!" (Well-played, kid.)
Yesterday was your second birthday, and we celebrated surrounded by friends, family, and lots of love. You have a wonderful extended family, Birdy, and they love you very much. (And they were also patient with my attempt at Elmo cupcakes, which looked decent enough before we went to bed on Saturday night, but somehow contracted the Rage Virus on the overnight, so we woke up to zombie Elmo cupcakes with bloodshot eyes. Happy ... happy birthday? We did, however, make the vegetable tray a la Elmo, and that worked out okay.)
You ate the zombie Elmo cupcake, though. And even though you looked like a lion cub devouring a gazelle, you enjoyed every nibble.
You're my best friend, my whole heart, and my littlest Bird who is getting so big. (Even your sneakers are getting so big.)
Even though we've only known each other for two years, you've been in my heart forever. Happy birthday, Birdy Bird. I love you!