Iâ€™m shocked to admit it, but weâ€™ve made it two years. As I write this, the clock has hit 1:32 p.m. You have been out in this world for two years.
Two at two. Nuts.
It is Monday, May 28. Memorial Day. You were supposed to be Labor Day babies. I should have known youâ€™d be in it to give me a run for the money from the very beginning.
Last year you celebrated your big day by sitting up by yourself for the very first time. It was a big deal. And we finally set forth on a path deemed â€œtypical.â€ Two little boys running amuck. Smiles, laughter and learning.
No lasting effects of prematurity. You spent the year learning to crawl. To walk. To talk. (Although I still canâ€™t really understand you.)
In two years, you have taught me how to let go of everything I once thought I could control. Iâ€™ve discovered how to smile at the absurd and disregard the concept of impossible.
Search â€“ You continue to explore every new detail that may share some insight of the world. Your stubbornness and determination will serve you well. Thank you for sharing your secret smile â€“ donâ€™t ever feel forced to divulge what you know.
Destroy â€“ Your smile and boisterous bounding energy bring joy to everyone around you. Donâ€™t ever stop loving life. Your excitement is contagious.
Weâ€™ve come a long way. Youâ€™ll grow up faster than I care to admit. Look forward. Your past, your imperfect beginning, does not define you. I remember, but do not look back.
Today you are two. You are my million dollar miracle muppets. I love you.
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as â€™twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should eâ€™er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knewâ€”
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
– Robert Frost