This boy of ours. He's nearly two. His hair curls warm in the nape of his neck like a cat in the sun. His eyes are colored just like the navy-marbled skin of ripe blueberries. His limbs are leaning out and stretching wide. And despite the ache in my heart, he's growing. I'm not ready. I'm so ready.

What will two be like?

A list of words he adorably mispronounces:

  • Base-ee-bawl (baseball)
  • Nilk (milk)
  • Helmp! (help)
  • Helicop-cop-da-ger (helicopter)
  • Strawbreeze (strawberries)
  • Fow (flower)
  • Bu-der (blueberries)
  • Shiretruck (firetruck)
  • Boap (boat)

 When something won't fit he says, "Too biggie." If he tries to do something and it goes wrong, he says, "Ohhp, try again!". All cats are 'meows'. Any animal with wings is a 'bur' (bird). He's stubborn and independent but also deeply connected with Jonathan and I. He wants to snuggle, squeeze and sit with us all day long. And we can't get enough of him either. I'm mostly writing all this down so I'll remember. Words assist when memory fails.

I marvel at him, yes. But moreso at how God has ordained for our ephemeral lives to blend an breathe together here on earth. Like the sun at dusk, the colors of this age are fading all too quickly, but it's still taking our breath away. We're in this beautiful state of Nearly with him. Nearly two, nearly approaching another year of life. But not yet. And, right now, I'm ok with Nearly. It's a time of remembering and anticipation. A time to honor how far we've come while carefully tucking away every small delight he brings us at this age.

Our sweet, summer-born boy, we love you so!