Dear Miss T,

The past year has flown by, and here we are again.   Today you’re two years old.  Today, we can’t even pretend that you’re still a baby.  You’ve made that transition to…well, a tiny person. Your personality is in full bloom and let me just say, WOW. You amaze me every day, but I can’t lie. Sometimes you frighten me as well.

You are fearless, baby girl. That’s an admirable quality, to be sure, but sometimes it can lead to disappointment. Some things are just too dangerous for a little one to do, and I know you don’t understand that. I’m sorry that you get mad at me for taking you away from the fun, but I’m just trying to keep you safe. Because clearly you are lacking the self-preservation gene.

These are uncharted waters for us, peanut. Your brother was (is)…passive, and this full-body tantruming thing that you do is not something your father and I know how to deal with. Normally we just ignore you, let you scream it out, and then you finally get up and walk away. Like, well, I guess it isn’t getting me anywhere so I’ll save my energy for jumping on the couch. Which is something else you do with reckless abandon.

You are hilarious.  You love to make people laugh, which is sometimes an issue for your father and me.  We have to be careful not to laugh too much when you loudly, repeatedly mispronounce “fork” every night at dinner.  But wow, is that ever hard, because it’s really funny.  And adorable.

So far, raising you has been very different than raising your brother.  But honestly, it’s hard for me to tell how much of that is because you’re the second child, how much of it is because you’re a girl, and how much of it is because you’re, well, YOU.  You two are like night and day, much like your father and me.  And that’s how I know you’ll be best friends.  He adores you, that brother of yours, and he looks out for you and comforts you when you cry.  I hope you know how lucky you are to have that.  I think you do.  You love him too, making sure he comes to the table when it’s time for lunch (yelling “Dooo!  Doooooo!” since I always call him Dude), and randomly plopping in his lap whenever he sits still for more than a minute.

You are so sweet and tender with your baby dolls, giving them kisses and carefully feeding them and putting them to bed.  It keeps you entertained for ages, although you’ve started chattering loudly and adamantly while you do it, and I can’t quite figure out what you’re saying.  I’m pretty sure it’s keeping your poor babies from getting any restful sleep, though.

The cat is your new best friend, I think, and she puts up with it whenever you try to put her to bed too.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.  The cat lays there on the floor, allowing you to cover her with a blanket and pat the living hell out of her.  I honestly think she likes it.  You two have forged quite a bond.  That stupid cat looks for you every morning, and fusses loudly until you agree to pet her.  “No, no, kitty,” you sometimes say.  “Shut up.”  That’s my girl.

You are a wonder, kid.  I am so lucky to be your mom, and I love you more than you’ll ever, ever know.  Well, until you have babies of your own one day.  And when you do, I can only hope that they run and hide when you try to put on their shoes, too.  It’s only fair.

Love, Mommy