He’ll be two in one month.

He doesn’t like to wear shoes. And wants to do everything his sister does. Right now. No waiting. No worrying. No fear.

No help.

He climbs on everything, no obstacle is too large.

When he sees something he wants, he goes for it. No matter there’s a plastic protective covering.

And he’s the messiest thing I’ve ever encountered.

But he never stops smiling.

Or making us laugh or giggle. He woke up this morning talking about how funny he is. How funny Daddy is. Mommy. Duck. Monkey. All SO FUNNY! FUNNY!!

People who know me and see me out generally make remarks about how tired I must be or they wonder if my kids ever stop. They make silly faces and some times empathetic ones to let me know they understand, but only sort of.

That’s ok. I get it. Actually I don’t. I know nothing else. This manic chase of life and laughter. This wonderful marathon of mess, crumbs and spills. Of water every where and dirt on top of it. Of cleaning your entire house and turning around to see nothing has even changed – your shadow was undoing everything you started?

It literally is all I know. I didn’t get calm children. But I got happy ones.