Two Aaron

Two years ago you weighed into this world at 9lbs 8oz and were 22 inches long. You were big. The extra two weeks you spent refusing to leave my belly paid off. You are still big (tall...if only you ate as much as you did then) and you still refuse to let go of your momma when the time is well overdue. I hope you always hold onto my love, comfort and friendship as much as you do now.

You are strong. Today you came to me with a turned down lip and worry in your eyes. I soon pinpointed the cause of your grief--another deeply torn toenail. You didn't cry until I suggested that we mend it with a band-aid. Your strong, determined spirit has already shown you through difficulties most people will never have to face. You are stronger because of them and we are stronger because of you. You are quite defensive of of the things and people you love. You hate it when Dada has to leave for school and love waiting for his return by the apartment complex doors. Though we often happily discuss saying "bye bye" to momma for nursery and other necessary parting times, you won't hear anything of it when we have to part. Don't worry, I'm sure some day I'll be the one crying when you leave.

You are adorable. You have smiling bright blue eyes like your mother and a sweet face so much like your father's. You still fiddle your fingers through your strait blonde hair when you are tired and in the first twenty minutes after you wake up. You insist upon wearing specific clothing items; lately you won't leave the home unless you are wearing your church shoes. You love running fast, doing your "wild rumpus" dance, rolling over, etc. and you insist that I watch all of your tricks. You often "tickle" me to make me laugh and pretend to be a dinosaur to make me scream. I love it when you pull me into your play world, explaining everything that you want me to do, and I love it when you insist that I "go away please" when I don't belong. You are also very particular: you must have your shoes tied to your liking and you hate it when the wheels of your bike get dirty.

You are smart. This morning when we woke up you took your cochlears out of the dry box and retrieved all of the rechargeable batteries from their resting spots. You are proud of yourself when you learn new words ("darn it" came out of your mouth yesterday), and "read" your books. You remember things I never expect you to. The other day when we were running around the research park sidewalks you called up to me from your stroller asking, "Where did the tractor go?" when we passed a spot where a tractor was digging a couple weeks back. All of your speech and listening teachers call you their "golden child" and are amazed that you are speaking and listening at age appropriate levels. Though you are turning two years old, your "ears" are not even one yet. You can count to ten, say your ABCs (give or take a few), know more than 230 words and fill in the blanks with the First Article of Faith. You are a miracle in so many ways.

Tonight when we were telling you about your CARS birthday party tomorrow your eyes widened with excitement and anticipation. Then, you paused with a quizzical look on your face and said, "And momma go to Aaron's birthday party too?" So sweet. I can't wait, and I can't wait for everything in store for the next year of your life. We thank our Heavenly Father that He entrusted us with such a loving, determined, adorable, smart and able little boy. Our hands and hearts have never been more full.

Love, Mom and Dad