Dear Jack,

Today you are 28 months old. 2 1/3 years. Daddy's home sick today and you're watching Wall-E with him. Your budding empathy is so sweet. You looked at him this morning for a long time, narrowing your eyes, and choosing carefully the words "Daddy? Are you aw-wight?" You're still a live cannon, typically two in your interactions with other kids, but I can see you beginning to process how your actions affect others. You've started saying "Mommy, I was JUST JOKing!" This morning you said that about running a toy car over your friend Sydney's foot. We'll work on that, my son.

This month you have been using the potty a lot, but still not regularly. I am not stressing about it, though I would very much like to say goodbye to diapers. We may have another year to go, but you're making progress and I'll take it. You are on your third "potty chart."
You like the process so much that sometimes we sit on the potty and read story after story after story. You insist on flushing, but only wash your hands at my insistence. You're happiest, it seems, when you're dirty. Sometimes when we're out and about I glance at your fingernails, caked with black dirt and experience parental shame. Then again, no one looks at your fingernails. They look at your cute face. I still get the glow from being in your entourage. Your blue eyes rarely escape comment. Now that you've started thanking everyone (librarians, bakers, people who hold the door for us), I'm pretty sure you could run for Mayor and make a good showing.

Most mornings, you cry when Daddy leaves for work. As he's getting dressed, you start asking "Daddy? You're going to Mish-a-win today?" When he says yes, you insist that you are going with him. He tells you he wishes you could, but you'll have fun today and he'll see you later. You run to the window and watch him drive away. A few days ago I heard you recanting this daily conversation to yourself while you played with blocks. It's a little heartbreaking, but I'm so happy that you love your dad and look forward to his return. Daddy went to Clemson for a game a couple of weeks ago, and as we laid down to go to sleep, you called out into the darkness "DADDY!!! YOU AT CWIMSON? DA-ADDY!!!!" You two have a special bond. You've been spending a lot of time in the backyard when he gets home, throwing the football or swinging while I make dinner.

All three of us were tossing the football around last week, and you suddenly cheered, "We are the Team-ers! Go Teamers!" You also cheer for the Tigers. After we went to see Rayna's game last weekend, you've added a "Woooo!" to the end of your cheers.

When you see Daddy and I hug each other, you jump up and run over, shouting, "Family Hug!!!" Those hugs heal me, and I'm so glad to share them with my two guys.

You're still singing all kinds of songs. I heard you as you fell asleep singing "Snuggle snuggle snuggle, hug hug hug, squeeze squeeze squeeze," giggling while you sang. These are the moments when I feel like we must be doing something right. When I know you feel loved and cared for, even if I'm not right there with you. You may feel so loved that you feel like you can argue with me. ALL. THE. TIME. When I ask or tell you to do something, you love to say "No kanks." On worse days, you say " No, I will NOT! I will NEVER do ______." The counting is still working for now. You can be so reasonable and so expressive that we can avoid frustration for a long time. But when you're tired, hungry, or both, you lose your cool. Hey, so do I.

Here are a few more cute things you've said this month:

"I can't be-YEEVE it!"
"That's imPOSSible!"
"It's ru-eened!"
"I twashed it!"
"Mommy, you're cute!"

For that last one, you earned one million points in the game MommyLand. Redeemable on days when I feel like I can't be calm anymore. When I'm tired of arguing. When I want to take the easy way out. Parenting you is an intense adventure. I remind myself that when I want to love you the least, I need to love you the most. When you're exasperating, I will draw you closer. We'll work through it together. Then I will drink after you go to sleep. Just kidding. Mommy's a lightweight.


I love you lots.

Mama

p.s. Last week as we laid down for bed, you started singing "Mary, Mary, Mar-y!" I suddenly felt the presence of your great-Grandma so strongly that I even looked over my shoulder. Her name was Mary Katherine, my namesake. I cried then, because she didn't get to meet you, or even your dad. She would be so amazingly proud of you. She would think you (and your cousins) hung the moon. She was so very special to me, and I look forward to telling you about her, and showing you her pictures. Grandma Rhodes was a teeny tiny woman with a heart so big she glowed. She's part of you, and I'm so thankful for that.