I’m so out of practice with this. I can’t remember—how was this done, again? Where did my ideas come from? Was I clever? It’s all a blur.
In a nutshell: there was a car accident on our corner, Henry and I witnessed it and were almost victims, and I suffered some post-traumatic stress that involved a lot of shaking and nibbling at fingernails and shaking and not-sleeping and not-eating and, um, shaking. Back when I wrote my last post, I thought I’d share all the details when I returned, but now that my heart rate is back to normal, I no longer have the superhuman (read: insane) energy I had then. But I am all better now, and isn’t that all that matters? I have received the Appropriate Treatments, my brains have been scrubbed clean of the bad thoughts, scrubscrubscrub, and now I am happy Happy HAPPY! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Hey, where are you--Wait, come back!
In better news, today was Henry’s 2nd birthday. He had his girlfriend over for dinner. They gazed into each other’s eyes, caressed each other’s cheeks with macaroni-and-cheese-encrusted fingers, and screamed over the rightful use and ownership of various trucks and trains. So pretty much what me and the Husband do on any given night.
Have I bragged about my kid enough? I kind of can’t believe how much I lucked out with him. He’s so happy and sweet and oh my god, he couldn’t be more affectionate. He is composed purely of love, as my husband likes to say. He’s, and let’s just put it out there, let us not be modest—jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I mean, come on:
But he’s not just a pretty boy, oh no. This boy has ideas. He’ll go off on riffs about turtles on the ocean and the waves going WHOOSH and how the turtles don’t live in the waterfall which is in the park and the waterfall there also goes WHOOSH and the turtle is on his hand but ha ha there’s no turtle there ha ha and all I can do is sit back and wonder what planet he came from.
He has turns of phrase that neither of us gave him, like “Big fun!” whenever he goes down the slide, or, alternately, “Too much fun!” His new habit is to give each day a theme; if it’s not a beautiful day, it’s a “Going to the Zoo Day” (mind you, this is before I was aware we were going to the zoo) or a “New Friend Day” or a “Hitting the Dog with a Tonka Truck Day.”
Incidentally, at his 2-year checkup yesterday, I learned that my boy weighs 34 back-breaking pounds (96th percentile) and is 35 inches tall (68th? Or something). My son is a square. Well, sort of. Also, his head was so big (because it is so full of dreams) they had to make a new chart for it. We went to a new doctor, whom Henry took a liking to and covered with kisses before we left (and not before careening bare-assed through the halls—apparently it was “Streaking Some Nurses Day”). And the new doctor said, “Are you afraid someone might steal this kid?” I sort of am. So don’t even think about it or I will be so mad.