It's kind of insane that this day is here. It literally feels like you were born yesterday and that we cautiously drove all 6 pounds of you home from the hospital. You've quadrupled in size since then and I'm pretty sure I love you a thousand times more than that rainy day 24 months ago.
I asked you how old you were going to be last week and you said five. Only because you don't know how to hold two fingers up, so the natural thing for you to do was exaggerate your age. You're just as dramatic as your mother.
But no, baby girl. You are two years old. Which means you're in full blown toddler mode.
You're obsessed with Doc McStuffins. The joy that rises in your face when you hear the theme song lights up your eyes and smile every single time. Sometimes you get so excited, you just run up to me and hug me. Which is fine, because you give the best hugs.
You love to color and reading is still a must before bedtime. Right now, you're really into Dr. Seuss's "Hop On Pop." Afterwards when we pray, you can't wait to say "Amen."
The thing I love about you most is how fearless and free you are, because you're a daily reminder that I need to approach my work and life the same way. Your laugh is the best, our late nights and early mornings are worth it and to watch you grow is an honor. I'm baffled yet fascinated that God chose me to be your mother.
To say I love you is an understatement and I wish you many more amazing birthdays.
Happy birthday, Pooks.