He measured up at 36 and a half inches tall and 34 pounds and 9 ounces. In the 90th and 95th percentile respectively. And, everything was pronounced healthy. He even got a sticker.
I can’t believe that I actually downloaded all of these photos and videos so quickly. (It’s cause I knew Pawpaw had asked for them particularly, I think. I mean, I still haven’t done the pictures from last summer’s vacation!)
Charlie started off his birthday celebrations with a party at Fedkids. To my horror, I realized I had forgotten my digital camera, so I grabbed a disposable one on the way to the festivities. Charlie had a blast snapping away and making everyone say cheese. (Any blurry pictures are, of course, his.)
Two of his teachers gave him some books that he loved. (He even refused to leave one of them behind when they went to the gym, and when I came back to pick him up a few hours later he knew what guinea pigs were when I pointed to their picture in the book!) Two of his other teachers baked him a delicious cake and came by to visit with him as he blew out his candles.
It was a fun time, and Charlie really took a shine to everyone telling him “Happy Birthday” and giving him presents. (He has the “open please” and tearing paper thing down.)
The next day, Saturday, was Charlie’s party at our house. Many of his friends from daycare were there, but the highlight of the day was an appearance by his beloved music teacher Gina Samardge. He was delighted, and a bit confused, to have so many people he sees outside the house in the house.
I knew Charlie would love to have Gina sing just for him. (He talks about her every time he sees a guitar or a snake—you’ll see why in the pictures.) And so I looked into her schedule and fees when I first started planning the party, in February. That’s when I also looked into reserving spaces or hiring out a party package from a local kids’ store that included Gina’s talents. When I heard the cost, my Southern raised-to-be-a-homemaker brain kicked in. “I can do that at half the price!” I thought.
And I nearly did.
And nearly keeled over trying.
This was a decidedly small affair. Eight kids total. But now I know why people hire event planners or pay mega-bucks to have their shindig for two-year-olds catered and held at a location far away from the place where they plan to sleep.
After a month of doing the scheduling, the invitations, the planning of decorations, the buying of goody bags, and the enlisting of borrowed toddler tables and chairs, I woke up at 6 am to bake the cake, clean the house, rearrange the furniture and tape up balloons. Jesse and Charlie spent the day blowing up balloons, buying beverages and veggies, and trying to blow off steam somewhere besides our living room.
Here’s what it looked like when we were done.
The party was messy, loud and delicious.
The plan was for a full hour and a half of toddler entertainment. A half hour for arrivals and art, a half hour for pizza and cake and a half hour of Gina’s music. The toys in Charlie’s room were ready as back-up. With only a few snafus, and surprisingly few crayon marks on the furniture, it went well.
Of course, when we were done, we were all really done.
And after Charlie passed out in his bed, it only took Jesse and I an hour or so to get all the chocolate cake, apple juice and pizza off the floor.
Today, I picked out a light jacket for Charlie. He’d been playing with it on the couch. When it was time to go, I said, “Let’s get your jacket.”
Charlie ran away from the couch and the jacket and toward the closet.
“We’re gonna wear your the other jacket, the one on the couch.”
He cried a bit, pulled on the sleeve of his daddy’s jacket (which was hung right next to Charlie’s, in the closet) and said, “Jacket.”
“You want to wear this jacket?” I pointed to his heavier coat, the one he’s worn nearly every day this winter but which seemed a little heavy for such a sunny day.
“Yeah-ss!”
I laughed. “Well, if you feel that strongly about it, you can wear that one!”
I’d heard that toddlers could be particular about what they want to wear. This was Charlie’s first time.
We went to Georgia for a visit. We wanted to see our new nephew, Sam, and everyone else in the Boyd and Yearwood clans. Hunting eggs, eating tons of candy and playing at Monkey Joe’s…we had a great time! We still miss you, everyone.
A month or so ago, Charlie used to climb the stairs to our apartment all by himself. (With me hovering behind making sure he didn’t fall backwards.) But recently he’s been asking to be carried. I can’t say that I blame him. It’s a steep two flights.
Usually he sits on the first step with his arms up.
And I say, in my fake exasperated voice, “You want me to hold you?”
“Yeah-ss!” he says.
And off we go.
But a few days ago, when he held his arms up, he said, “Hode you.”
It took me a minute, but I finally got it. Then I carried him up the stairs.
When Charlie and I walk around the neighborhood, or anywhere for that matter, he names everything he knows and then grunts a request for me to fill in the missing vocabulary words.
So, the other day, as we were walking to music class, we saw beep-beeps (cars), cats, dogs, Gina (balconies—I have no idea how this connection was made), USA (flags), and various other things. One of the other things we saw was a big pile of dog poop.
We could see it several feet in front of us as we walked closer. Charlie began to point and make funny noises, which means “tell me what that is.”
“That’s dog poop,” I said.
“Dawg ooh. Dawg ooh.” He pointed to some trash on the sidewalk. “Dawg ooh.” He pointed to a crushed cup beneath a tree. “Dawg ooh.”
Oh Lord.
He still remembers his new word a week later. Today, he pointed to actual dog poop before saying, “Dawg ooh, Mama. Dawg ooh.”
Blow your horn,
say “Hoo Ray!”
Our birthday boy
turns two today!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHARLIE! WE LOVE YOU!
(We’ll post pictures and videos from his party at Fedkids and his pizza and music party tomorrow as soon as we can. Hopefully that will be before his third birthday. *grin*)