Henry two years on
It’s shocking- SHOCKING- that Henry is two.
He’s still such a baby.
A baby who can walk, talk, count to ten in two languages, sing the Finnish national anthem at the top of his lungs, tell jokes, give kisses, identify Pixar characters, ride a scooter, play floorball, and throw one heck of a tantrum.
I can’t explain it, but he still seems so little. When I think back to Benjy at this age, Benjy seemed wise. He was quiet, he was observant.
Henry is goofy and emotional and jumps right in. Except on trampolines- I remembered tonight at his birthday party that he hates trampolines.
The terrible two’s are in definite effect at our house. We’ve instituted the naughty step- as soon as he says he’s sorry and gives a kiss, he can get up. ”No sorry! No kiss!” he’ll shout for a good twenty minutes while crying and wriggling around on the floor. He’ll cross his arms and blubber his lips and shoot us death stares. I really fail to see how being two differs very much from being a teenager.
He can get in and out of his crib by himself, and has been able to for about a month. We’ll move him to the “big boy bed” as soon as Benjy is four- four is the arbitrary age we’ve set for Benjy to move to the top bunk, freeing up the bottom for Henry’s use.
Henry is still in love with his tutti, although at daycare he naps without one. Olli’s bent on getting rid of the thing before Henry’s third birthday. ”It’ll only be a couple of bad nights,” he assures me. I told him those were a couple of bad nights he could endure without me. I’ll take a Big Boy Weekend in a year, thankyouverymuch.
Daycare is great for Henry. He’s happy to go, happy to come home. The boys are in opposite sides of the school, so they never play together- not even on the playground. I think it’s good for them to have their space. They play together in relative peace when they’re home together.
There’s so much more to say about Henry, but I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted because it’s been a long day- full of scootering at the skate park, baking a cake, playing with him at HopLop, negotiating tantrums, and singing Happy Birthday every five minutes (per my request- I loved singing it with him). I’m also exhausted because he’s been interrupting our sleep AGAIN every night this week. Monday he was awake from 3:30-5:30am. ”Henry, go to sleep.” ”No. No sleep,” he replied, happy as can be. Tuesday he was awake for an hour. Last night he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow- our pillow, of course, in our bed. Because it’s where he ends up half the time.
I must say that I love being exhausted if it means I get some snuggle time with my kid.
Two years have passed in the blink of an eye. He’s 2 years closer to being 23 and never calling his mother.