We are visiting my in-laws for a few days before heading back to Small Town. My sister-in-law and niece are here. My niece just turned two. She is full of wonder and baby sweetness.
I'd forgotten what it means to be two...
When you're two, it is tough to have a cold because someone has to help you blow your nose. This isn't fun. For you or the someone.
When you're two, bigger kids are cool. Right up there with Santa Claus, crayons, tape and stuff you find on the floor.
Being two means that suddenly everything is yours and your job is to let everyone know it.
Two is the year that you learn about potties and that sometimes if you do something there, you get M & M's.
When you're two, people like to clap their hands and sing silly songs. You sing along to make them feel special.
When you're two, the bigger people try to play tricks on you at dinner, but you secretly know that broccoli isn't Little People Trees.
Being two means that you get to be friends with Elmo and Cookie Monster. Next year, you learn Spanish with a girl who has a very large head.
Two is the time you discover how fun it is to hide. And to be found.
When you're two, people like to ask you how old you are. Over and over.
When you're two, the world is really tall. Especially when you are trying to reach for something sharp or hot or dangerous. Whatever that means.
Being two means that when you cry, someone big will come and pick you up and hold you.
Two is the time when you are the center of the world, at least for a while, and that's Okay.
Because you're two.