Gosh, that went fast. Seems like only 365 days since I last wrote you a special letter.
Two years old! Man, you are a funny, funny thing. Too adorable for your own safety, T-Bone, to be honest. Many's the morning I must resist the urge to cover you in with butter, sprinkle on some cinnamon and just eat you right up. But I do fight it, Ted. I fight that urge every time it overcomes me, and so far, I am victorious over my own desires. Because Mummy is not a monster.
Two years old! You're a love-sponge, Teddy. A source of significant income to the osteopath. No amount of carting about and and cuddling is ever enough, and frankly, you're messing with your own chances of a sibling. (Or is that your cunning plan?) When I consider you and your adorably eccentric big sister, my heart bursts, and I am suddenly, intensely and absolutely gripped with the desire to produce and nurture more of you. At the end of a long day (and night) filled with 'Mummy, up!', I worry whether this old body could take the strain. But faced with a platinum-headed, blue-eyed, barrel-chested laid-back surfer baby, arms out and begging 'More kisses!', whats a Mama to do?
Two years old! You are musical, Teddy-Bones. Daddy and I gave you a ukelele for this birthday and you've clutched it joyfully ever since. You are a huge fan of Dan Zanes, The Wiggles, and Play School Meets The Orchestra. You have a list of changing musical demands that must be met before you'll go to sleep at night. You even have your your own dance move where you nod your head to one side and stamp on stiff, jerky legs. It's sort of like you're simultaneously channeling Stevie Wonder and Peter Garrett.
Two years old! You love books. Rock Group is a particular favourite but you're across many genres, including the under-appreciated area of the catalogue. A good catalogue can amuse you for weeks, until it finally crumbles, a victim of your enthusiastic love. When you're not reading, you enjoy putting buckets and boxes on your head, playing Fraggles and making spiky dogs out of Play-Dough.
Two years old! You love to give people food, and your play oven is one of your favourite toys. Perhaps you will be a chef? 'Dere go, Mum! Dere go, Dad,' we hear often as you generously hand us some half-masticated old cheese you found under the couch.
Two years old! You're an animal lover, Ted. In particular you adore dogs, ladybirds and slater bugs - and once a headless dead rabbit - but your deepest affection is saved for the stinky purple bear you call Barbie.
You are so sweet-natured, Ted, and you're permanently agreeable. 'Yah!' you answer to any suggestion, and you love to ask after people's welfare. 'Har you, Nanna?', you question tenderly, and if asked back: 'How are you, Teddy?" you answer 'Good, danks.' Nobody really wants to hear about your struggles with incontinence and your problems with effective spoon management. You've learned early to keep it polite, and keep it light. Now that's conversational sophistication , Teddles. Where's that on the milestone charts?
Two years old! You love your big sister Ivy. You call her Ay-Ay, and now, so do we all. You follow her around, repeat her wild assertions (My arms are talking to each other, Teddy!), keep her company while she's on the toilet and run, shouting, into pre-school for pick-up, like she's been away at war. 'Ay-Ay! Dere's Ay-Ay! Mum, deres Ay-Ay!'
Two years old! You're a talker, T-Bone, a word-nerd like your mother. You're a baby raconteur. A tiny toastmaster. Sometimes I'm amazed what pops out of your mouth, and the idea of having years of conversation with you ahead of me makes me so happy.
Thanks for another year of happiness, Teddy. We love you more with the gift of every day.