I wasn't paying attention, and Noah turned two. He can even tell you he's two years old, and show you two fingers. This is excruciating for me. One was much-anticipated chocolate cake all over a still baby face. One and a half was eclipsed by the arrival of a new baby face. There is almost nothing baby left about two. No bottles, no pacifiers, no shirts that snap at the bottom. He doesn't even need me to help him climb the stairs anymore. There are still the diapers. And the occasional snuggle.
Cheers to the boy!
I will try not to cry into your cake.
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