Ollie, Two

He's two. And the day he turned two--the very morning of his birthday--was the day he refused to hold my hand going down the stairs when we dropped Cass off at school. He said "no!" when i tried to help him like I always do. No railing. No wall. Nothing to grab. But "no!" it would not be my hand. Not today, not when he's two years old. He would walk down the stairs by himself, thank you very much.

I love that about him. That independence, even though he still screams "mommy!" if anyone else tries to get him juice or put on his clothes or carry him around the kitchen while I cook breakfast. I love how he pronounces "joosh." I love how he still throws both hands in the air over his head when he's excited. I love how he plays by himself, making little plastic guys talk and move, just like he sees his brother do. I love how he laughs if you look at him for a really long time, and hides behind my legs in front of strangers. I love how he listens to almost everything (get your shoes, let's pick up toys) but won't repeat a single word he's said a hundred times when you ask him to. I don't love how he smashes his hands down onto his plate/bowl of food or hurls it across the room if he doesn't get something he wants, but I'm sure we'll laugh about it one day. I love how he rubs his fingers along my lips when we're snuggling in bed every morning (and sometimes up my nose) and how my name is the first thing he says when he wakes up. I love how he sometimes gets out of bed after we've put him down and comes to the top of the stairs... "mommy, mommy... daddy?" just to see if he'll get a response. I love how hard to get he plays with his affectionate brother, but he almost always gives in and hugs back. I love how he deposits the tiniest of lego implements and nails and anything else that will fit into the keyhole in the front door--a stash he checks every day. I love how he almost always has a toothbrush in his hand or mouth. And how he unloads everything in my purse and wallet and bathroom drawer and scatters it across the floor or hides it in impossible-to-detect places around the house. I love how he refuses to say hi to people and just stares at them somberly while they try to elicit a response with an annoying high-pitched toddler voice. I love how he says hi repeatedly to everyone and no one in particular when he's in the mood to be friendly. "hi hi hi hi hi hi." I love how much he loves footwear -- and how he begs for me to put on certain boots and shoes, including a his favorite pair with the yellow laces that he's long outgrown. I suspect it's because he doesn't want to be left behind. I love how he brings me broken toys and says "awwwww" like they're hurt animals. I love how he summons all his strength into his bent legs, throwing up his arms at his sides, to get off the ground when he jumps. I love how proud and satisfied he looks when he's funny. I love how he sits at the piano, playing gently and purposefully, and sometimes lays his head down to the side--low so he can be closer to the music, with his head almost resting on the keys. I love how he calls trains "railroad" (with without the d at the end). I love his fearlessness--not a wild fearless but a quiet, determined one. I love this age of his, two.