It's August. I'm more than a month late with your second birthday letter. I've been busy but also procrastinating. Where in the world do I begin?
You are one incredible little girl. You're spunky and independent, with opinions about everything; I didn't expect to have to choose my battles quite so soon. I know this strong will of yours is a good thing. I also know it makes your Grandma smile. Payback!
When the house is too quiet, it often means you've discovered something new to climb -- and then jump from. In your more chill moments, you like to curl up in the nearest lap with a stack of books. You have an impressive imagination and entertain yourself well, but you also love playing with friends -- especially a certain couple of cousins.
You're precocious and talkative and a great observer. I'm constantly fascinated by the things you notice and the connections you make. I should be writing down so much more of what you say. Your prayers are priceless. So is your rendition of "Somebody to Love."
You're generous with shows of affection, and every single time you run up and hug my knees or lean in for a kiss or say "I love you, Mom" for no particular reason, my heart melts. How could it not?
You aren't perfect -- no one is -- but I can't imagine loving you more. Of course, I thought the same thing a year ago.
I do love you immeasurably much, and I know you know it. Every day in a hundred ways you make me laugh and shake my head and thank God for landing you with us.