The End of Being Two.

For days now I have reminded him that soon, very soon, he won't be two any more.

And today was no different.

When he awoke, right away I told him that today would be his last day being two.

His last breakfast and soccer and lunch and nap and everything else we did today, because tomorrow he'll be three.

And I am sad. In that bittersweet sad kind of way.

I have really liked two.

No, I have loved him being two.

And there are so many things I want to remember. The way he called cars, beep-beeps. The crazy, silly (sassy) things he did this last year. The way he transformed before my eyes from little one to big one.

Two was a good year.

Three will be good, too.

And while it is a bittersweet transition, I can't wait for tomorrow. (Friday)
I love birthdays.
Love, love, love birthdays.
Especially his birthday.
Where we will celebrate him all day long.

So the presents are wrapped.
The invites for his Saturday party have been sent.

The preparations are done.

His birthday shirt (our tradition) is ready to be worn.

The cinnamon rolls are ready to be baked come 6am tomorrow.

And tomorrow morning, we'll all awake and though there will be nothing noticably different, something will be.

This precious little boy will be one year older.

Three.

He will be three and I will be the mother of a three year old, which sounds so much older and wiser and more serious than being the mother of a two year old.

Tonight, on his last night of being two, I hope never to forget, amidst all the crazy busy days and years that fly by like minutes, that I have really loved two.

And that this is how he looked his last night of being two.