Your confidence grows each day and you like to assert your independence at any given opportunity -- dressing yourself, emptying the contents of your potty chair into the toilet after you've gone to the bathroom, climbing in and out of your crib unassisted, opening your own string cheese or yogurt, choosing which items on your plate you want to eat and which ones you'd rather give to Dixie. It seems like each day there is something new you want to try and, while this can sometimes be a great source of frustration for me, it makes me proud to say that more often than not, you succeed at those new things.
Your vocabulary gets bigger every day and you've become quite the little parrot. You like to repeat the things you hear, which is funny until you repeat a naughty word you've overheard your daddy say. (If I were being totally honest I would tell you that it's actually hilarious when you repeat swear words. But since it would be a perfect example of bad parenting, I won't admit that I sometimes ask you to repeat them just to make me giggle.) You've taken to calling your dad "Honey" or "Babe" and you frequently argue with him, insisting that I'm your wife. One of my favorite things to hear you say is, "Wee har you, honey?" or "Wee go, Mama?" when you're wandering through the house looking for your dad or I.
Morgan, I've always been under the impression that living with a two year old is basically a string of horrible experiences interjected with a few moments of laughter. I'm not very far into this journey, but I think my opinion of two year olds is changing. If this year turns out to be anything like the last two, I think it's safe to assume that there will be those moments of horror, but there will also be plenty of laughter and more than a few moments of absolute wonder. Though I recognize the many ways you've grown and constantly find myself amazed at what a little girl you're becoming, there are times that I look at you, especially when you're sleeping, and see my little newborn again. You still have her same round nose and soft skin. You breathe the same sigh of contentment she did when she snuggled into my chest. You have her chubby toes and wide fists. The top of your head still smells the same. And you're still the very essence of my heart and soul.
Happy (late) birthday!