Two years old

I call him Buddy and Righty and little Fella. Yesterday I called him the birthday boy.

It is such a joy to spend my days with Henry. He is such a joyful child. Everything is "awesome" or "beautiful" or "great!!" He tells jokes and loves dance parties at home. He loves singing along with Van Morrison when he sings "Domino." He counts to 23, and is quite happy surrounded by a stack of books (the Harold and the Purple Crayon books and Frog and Toad are his favorites right now). He has a temper but (lately) is willing to let us talk him down. He remembers everything, and calls the kid in his church nursery "Uncle Sam." He is a marvel.

He loves his dogs, and his sister, and his daddy.

It's been a strange year for me: not working, looking for a job, and making the most of the time I have with the kids right now. Spending that year with Henry has been a gift to me. I haven't figured out if he's my sidekick or if I'm his...

ps - note the blue guitar birthday cake: his request and the green drum set behind it.