CASEY BEANS IS TWO!!

Casey the Bean! I can't believe my sweet baby-thang is turning two. I've already had a few twinges of regret that you'll no longer be our baby, our youngest. There are only two more weeks before a whole new baby is due to arrive in this house, and I can't get over the idea that your sweet chubby cheeks, dimpled hands and elbows, and little voice will seem so much older in such a short time. But for now, at least, you are still my baby. The one who loves to cuddle, especially when I lay Blanket on my shoulder and you can snuggle into it. The one who says "Uppwease!" when you want to be picked up (which is all the time), and "I wuv eeeewwwwe!" at any and all random times.

You can repeat almost any word thrown at you and I'm always amazed at your ability to communicate what you want or what you're thinking. When I disappear upstairs for a minute: "Mom! Dooin'?" When Dad is in the garage or doing home repairs: "Da! Fixin'?" When you decide it's time to eat and climb into your high chair: "I hungee. I eat?" When Abby is laying in the spot where you want play with toys: "Abby! Out! Git out!" When you dig the big plastic bowl out of the cabinet and, using your sweetest voice, ask "Pah-corn? Pweese? Pah-corn?" When we arrive at the YMCA and you are hell-bent on watching the grown-ups play basketball: "Ba-bee-ball? I see? I watch?"  When you're thirsty and you want juice and water: "Joo-water?" (we're working on that one.)

You can sing a few songs, but your favorite seems to be the theme from Cops. "Bad boys, bad boys... what you DO?", you sing over and over. You also regularly sing Zippity Do Dah, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and the theme songs from Mickey Mouse and Totoro. I love the guttural tone you use when we walk through a parking lot, labeling every truck you see "Monster Truuuuck!" You think that throwing your arms over your head while you're running means that you're jumping. You have a very mature palate-- you scoff at pepperoni & cheese pizza, but devour it when I use pesto, feta and tomatoes. You pick at chicken nuggets, but teriyaki salmon with a side of quinoa and broccoli is gone the minute it hits your plate. (Having said that, you are totally Dad's 'Easy Cheese on Ritz' buddy, too.)

You're my shy boy, but I don't ever want to label you as that in case you have the good fortune to outgrow it before your school years. Some days, you say hi to everyone we pass in the store, but if someone takes it too far and approaches the cart to talk to you, you bury your face in your Blanket and won't come out, and you often don't recover for the remainder of our outing. You'll eyeball everyone suspiciously and sometimes even cry if they speak to you.

You are an absolute sports enthusiast. Baseball, basketball, football, soccer-- I see no need to get you anything for your birthday besides sporting goods. It's the only thing besides motorcycles that you're interested in playing with. You actually take a ball to bed with you every time you take a nap, and snuggle with it just like you do with Blanket.

You love music, and bluegrass seems to be your current favorite. If I play it, you stop whatever you're doing to get up and dance, or bob your head and say "Song? Listen." You also seem to be a big fan of Amos Lee, Willie Nelson, Mumford and Sons and a few Pearl Jam songs. You just recently decided that my mediocre singing voice will suffice in a pinch-- when we were on vacation, we shared a bed, but you were still having a hard time falling asleep. So you pointed your bossy finger right at my nose and demanded, "You. Sing."

Books. You love a good reading session, and you've always been laid back enough to take the time to sit and listen. You throw books into my lap, one by one, and say "I sit down? Book? I sit down?" and then you giggle and squeal when I comply. And that's another thing I'm going to miss! The squeal of delight. Something I learned from your older brother is that the squeal is gone long before I'm ready for it to be.

Your BRUDDER. You love 'brudder'. You yell his name across the house-- "Cote-un! Come here! Watch this!" But you certainly don't like him touching you unless you're looking to wrestle. I don't think you trust his motives when he tries to give you a hug. You are always up for some Belly Buddies, though, which is when you press your bare bellies together before you get your jammies on. You can make each other laugh until you can't breathe, and annoy each other until someone starts crying. And if there's anything that Colton can do, then damnit, you're going to give it a good try, too.  When you feel that he needs to be corrected, you gasp and say "Cote-un Robert!" You do have an unfortunate habit of hitting him over the head with toy cars, but you're very lucky that you have a good-natured brother who doesn't hit you back, but reminds you "Casey! No hit!"

And you're stubborn, which isn't unusual for your age, but you change from a sweet little dimpled thing to an oversized personality of Brick Wall in a matter of seconds. You stand still, glare at me, give one loud, short shriek and won't move one step until I pick you up and toss you over my shoulder like a sack o'taters. 
But no matter how tired or out-of-patience I feel, you can melt me with one word or gesture. Just picking you up out of your crib every day is a guaranteed mood-lifter. You are the center of my world, Baby Boy, and I love you to pieces.

Happy 2nd Birthday to my sweet Casey the Bean!
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