My son is two.

Luckily I had this picture from our trip last week, saving me from uploading photos at the end of an exhausting, celebratory day.

Back to it, though, my son is two today. Two years old.

He's so very two. Feisty. Wants what he wants, when he wants it, lives in the moment. Says 'no' about a hundred and fifty million times a day. Awesome.

He stopped in the middle of playing with new birthday toys today, because on his birthday playlist I had put 'That's Not My Name,' and he just had to dance.

I just love this kid. He will smack you on purpose one minute, and the next he's giving you a tight squeeze with his arms and legs wrapped around you cause he can't stand to be away from you. (I like those moments better than the ones where I get smacked on purpose.)

He has favorite songs and books and toys and likes. I did not expect this. I know, I have a four year old so I've been through this ages and stages things, but I just expected him to be a bigger baby at this point. He is so much more, and I'm so amazed and surprised by him every day. I can't wait to see him each morning, to snuggle him and feel how warm he is and keep him close as long as he'll lay, until he's too ready to go go go on with his day.

I know what he'll go straight to in the morning: the new trash truck, which he's filled with tiny pieces of paper and a quarter. And then we'll eat breakfast, and then he'll want to watch Wall-E cause it's the weekend and that's when kids get to watch movies around here. But he won't watch the whole thing, cause he's two and he's never made it through a whole movie before.

I love the little bits of him.

I'm not so jazzed that he's two instead of one, but if my son has to be two years old, then I'm happy to say I've got the best two year old son.