Henry,

You are two.

TWO!

 

Your dad and I can hardly believe it.  Which is probably while we had a big sappy meltdown about it after you went to bed on Wednesday night, your birthday.  Well, disbelief paired with you picking Love You Forever for us to read to you while we snuggled in your bed with you during storytime like we do every night.  Of all the books on your shelves, you usually pick Demolition or Little Blue Truck, but of course you had to pick 

the most likely book to produce tears on the most bittersweet day for us.  

 

It is the most incredible joy watching you grow and learn from your curious nature.  It is also so hard to watch because it just happens so. fast.  I know one day much too soon, I will wake up and instead of you yelling "mommeeeeeeee" from your room, I will be yelling "Henry!!" from the kitchen, 

trying to wake you up instead.  And I might just do it at 6:30am for a little bit of payback.  On a Saturday. 

Henry, you are the most vivacious wild thing, with no fear, selective hearing, an infections smile, the world's best giggle, piercing blue eyes, 

and you look like an angel while you sleep.  

And sometimes that saves you after you've run me to the ground all day.  Literally.

I snuck an extra long sneak at you on Tuesday night after we put you to bed, your last night of being one, and thought, "how can we be here already?  

at two-years old?"  It can't be possible, and yet it is and better than we could have ever imagined. 

 

Hap-pah Birday Heh-Heh!

 

We can't wait to celebrate you this weekend. 

From this little boy's point of view, green acres is the place to be.

 

Land spreading out so far and wide...

 

go ahead and just give him that countryside.

 

And we can do just that...

for weekends here and there.

 

 Because after that, I wouldn't have enough stain remover to clean his clothes; the mud caked onto his city slicker Sperry's would be too thick to peel.

 

And we'd risk having Franklin shock himself in the electric fence - again.

 

 Plus, I only have one "farming" outfit for Nelle...but she sure was the cutest farmer I've ever seen in polka dot jeggings and floral headband.

The chores.

Fresh air.

 

Darlings, I love you and am so glad your daddy can share this with you.

 Some of my favorites from this past weekend.

Nelle's high pitched squeals she's sharing with us more and more frequently.

Henry making the raunchiest, juiciest toot noises on Nelle's belly trying to get her to laugh.

 

Nelle's gummy grin full of sweet potatoes or peas while she navigates this new skill of eating solid food.

 And finally, I bought granola bars at the store last week.  We haven't had them for quite some time so Henry has been eating them like they are the best thing on Earth, requesting them for every snack time...and then asking for a second (or even third!) as soon as he has inhaled the first.

They're an easy snack, especially if we are on the go, but the best part about them is that he calls them bung.

I have no idea why he hears bung when we say granola bar (maybe hearing the g from the first word, but combining it with bar?), but it makes me giggle inside each time he says it.  Normally he's a good eater - snacks, meals, whatever - but for some reason on Sunday night he wanted a snack before bed.  

What do you want for your snack, Henry?

Bung.

What are you eating Henry?

Bung.

What is this Henry?

Bung.

Andrew and I were laying in bed with him ready for story time while he enjoyed his bung, and we could not quit asking him to say it.

Bung.  Bung.  Bung.

Pretty soon we were all three belly laughing, tears streaming down my face, because he just kept saying bung, 

Andrew and I couldn't stop laughing, and neither could Henry, but he was just laughing because he knew he was being funny.  

That's the thing about this one, he's a ham.  He's wild and full of life and lives it big. 

He is going to be slamming beer cans against his head in college based on the way he acts now.

Which means we have some work to do with Nelle.  A lot of work actually.  

Because she laughs every time we take her shirt off.

Bung.

Is it too much to ask to get one photo of two under two together?  

Yes.

Unless you are more stubborn than they are.
And your husband...
who after two shots is throwing his hands in the air saying with a little too much exasperation, "this just isn't working."

Four separate shooting occasions, spanning over two days, with a little bribery and crazy antics from behind the camera,
and the out takes are almost as good as the one shot I wanted.  

Ham's in...sitting and smiling!  Quick, add in Nelle.

 Yep, exactly what I was wanting.

 The next morning, all by myself.  What was I thinking?  Total zoo.

Later that afternoon...still alone...
There is no one else in the room.  Why are you both looking opposite directions AND NOT AT ME??

The best part about this section of my Mother's Day shoot "tries" is that they are both doing the same thing in most of these photos.  Little turkeys.
H was fixated on ramming his head into Nelle's.  This boy!

 Smiles.

Tongues.

Head ram.

quit. head. ramming. your. sister.

One last head ram in the morning for good measure.

My last effort later that afternoon after naps...let's start with a head ram!
"Henry, if you do that again I'll tell dada when he gets home."

 Half way there.  
(I'm yelling K-STATE and WILLIE!!!!!  I would smile too.)

Other half way there.

Why am I doing this to myself?

Because of this.

Head ramming.  She learned from the best.

Over it.

 Dirty clothes on the bed.

Nelle's spitting up. 

Done.

Clearly done.

Sister takes her job seriously.

Just let it go, Nelle.

So proud of themselves...thinking they've won. 

But really it's me who's won.