A 2 year old with better things to do than have his picture taken.
It pains me to think that you won't remember this year. We all had so much fun, especially you. You started walking and started talking in sentences. You are sweet, love to cuddle when you're tired, love water, love to swing (ok, that one has never stopped), love to sing, love to play "get you" for hours, love to run up and down "hee-lls" (that's hills, with two syllables and a southern accent), love cartoons, games, trains, trucks, tractors, and you are always asking to go outside. You are so adorable sometimes I just want to eat you. You've become a lot more independent though (and therefore let me nibble on your knees less often), and lately have taken to pointing at yourself and proudly stating "I do it!" or "I Eliot!" Yes darling, yes you are. You are so you now, so much your own person and I am so proud of you.
You are my joy, but you are stubborn. This year has introduced us to picky toddler eating. There are things I know you'd love (like pie! Sweet delicious pie!) that you refuse to even put in your mouth because you haven't seen them before. I have to make sure I pick my battles with you because you'll win unless I physically prevent you from something, which really feels unfair, and I'm sure you hate it too.
Most nights you still join us in bed around 3am, but we don't mind. I think I miss you too by 3am. Speaking of 3am, did I mention how loud you are? You have no inside voice, everything is a yell, and stated about 20 times (ship! ship! ship! choochoo! choochoo! choochoo! pizza! pizza! pizza!). You just have to make sure people are paying attention. Listen to you yell Mamadada (sometimes we are one entity) over and over at 3 in the morning is a little less cute.
Our new nightly routine consists of "books in bed" as you call it. Where we attempt to limit you to
I love you Eliot. I can't wait to see where you take us next. Happy second birthday.