Ode to a Two Year-old

Last week my youngest son turned two. Since that moment, our lives have taken a turn for the worse. Whereas his brother was a visual learner and could learn from watching others make mistakes, James is a tactile learner and must make them himself. This article is a list of his adventures this week and an ode to him, full bloom in his own wonderful world of danger.

J is for jumping on our bed, making snow angels in the sheets, and screech- ing like a wild monkey at two o’clock in the morning.
A is for Aveda, the make-up I used to own before he destroyed it.
M is for mechanical failure from the quarters he shoved in our cassette player.
E is for the emergency number I dialed after he ate a tube of sunscreen.
S is for the smashed banana pieces between my toes; the one I thought he had finished.

W is for the water glass he threw at the Spangler Cafeteria.
A is for asphalt and a bloody upper lip.
D is for decorating himself with red permanent marker.
E is for eternity: how long I want to be his Mommy.