I have long dreaded the day my daughter turns two… and it’s nearly here.
I barely survived one. Hell, I barely survived zero. This Terrible Twos thing that’s coming in hot will obviously be the last straw of my sanity.
As it turns out, I kind of like two.
The meltdowns are less frequent (or I’m just better at avoiding them). My daughter talks, and says things that make my husband and I laugh until we cry. She loves to color, to build Legos, to dance, and can practically sing every Big Block Singsong word-for-word. She picks out her own shoes in the morning, requests noodles for breakfast, and loathes having her crazy blonde hair brushed.
She’s a little person now.
A year ago, I couldn’t fathom the thought of sending her to “school.” Today I watched her run inside the building with a giant smile on her face, and I nearly cried because I was so damn PROUD of her. She’s flourishing.
Two might not be any easier than one. In fact, I’m sure it’s not. We still have epic tantrums, leaving the house is never simple, and nap time is fading fast. But for us, we’ve found a place in time where our days are more enjoyable than not. This routine, this groove we have finally found – it’s makes everyone happy. I’m soaking in this age, and all of the sweet kisses that come with it.
Some mommas figure it out immediately. For me, it took two years.
I was meant for this.
Two is terrific, in my opinion.