He delights me, he confounds me, he tests me, he makes me laugh, he exasperates me, he humbles me, he fills me with joy. It's staggering how much better I know him now than I did a year ago. It's also staggering how little I still know of him should God give us more years together.
I never knew how hard it could be to do a two-year old justice with a description. I mean, he's only been alive for two years; how hard can it be?
Tadhg is an intense little person. He loves deeply, he rails against perceived injustice vigorously, he plays heartily, he observes carefully, he loses his temper mightily, he gives affection unstintingly, he engages in life wholeheartedly. He has a burgeoning imagination which comes out in both his play and in his fears (especially of coyotes, which he thinks just might live in our basement; and ladybugs, which I've learned through our occasional tremulous nighttime conversations are sometimes the cause of a troubled mind and disturbed sleep).
He loves to build things and use tools and read books and get tickled and have stick-sword-fights with Daddy and sing and "play guitar" and go adventuring outside. He's a jolly little helper already. And now that he's talking, it's the icing on the cake.
My current favorite exchanges often involve his great zeal in expressing pleasure. Food he enjoys? "Mmm. Like dat. Good." A play dough creation he just made? "Awesome!" (Although the way he says it makes it 10x cuter.) Tell him he gets to go on a solo date with Daddy while Mama stays home with a molar-growing Pip? "S'citing!" And just last night, give him cottage cheese with blueberry lime jam mixed in? "'Mazing!!"
He helps me write grocery lists every Monday, self-importantly dictating letters and words that he's "writing." I've been overhearing him counting up a storm for the past couple of weeks; everything must be counted, in typical "one, two, five, eight, nine" fashion.
Current favorite books--Richard Scarry, no contest.
And a random anecdote, because it made me laugh:
When we go to the local library, one of the attractions for Tadhg is an electronic globe with a computerized voice he can summon by pressing buttons. Last time we were there, he stopped playing with it for a bit to try to figure out the kids' computer. Globe Woman's voice broke the silence, "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, I still here," he nonchalantly replies.
Tadhg, you lovable little rapscallion, you are dear to us. Happy birthday.
(And here follows an absolute glut of birthday party pictures. Blame it on the fact that Tadhg's my oldest and I can't help myself.)
Essential pre-birthday party preparation includes hat-wearing and party-pipe-blowing.
A room made fit for a birthday boy, just missing the throngs. With both Rundy and I hailing from very large families, throngs are to be expected even when only family is invited to a party.
A birthday boy and his Very Special Helium Balloon.
When I asked Tadhg what he wanted to eat for his birthday, he gave an emphatic, "Cake. C'eam." (A real traditionalist.) When I probed as to what kind of cake he wanted, thinking he'd like a tractor cake and showing him some pictures online, he out of the blue said he wanted "a Farmer in the Dell cake." With a barn. And a tractor inside. And a cow. (I didn't even know he knew the Farmer in the Dell song, but know it he did, thanks to Daddy's bedtime songs. Except Rundy's version has--inevitably, if you know Rundy--been revised. Our family version lacks the nurse and the cow.)
Thanks to my sister Abby and her children's magical Playmobil collection, I was able to borrow said items. All I had to provide myself was the tractor, the candle, the cheese, and the cake.
Groggy Tadhg meets his cake (which I decorated during the boys' nap.)
Waiting for the throngs to arrive. Tadhg had been eagerly anticipating so many of his Loved People coming to our house at once. He'd spent a good part of the day running around gleefully shouting, "Happy day!!!" and beaming and jumping like a lunatic when I listed the myriad wonderful people who were coming.
So many great people. I wish our house could've fit more.
(Thanks to Caleb and Cadie and Justin for providing nearly all of these photos!)
Some jolly, wonderfully raucous birthday singing.
Spoiled boy opening so many exciting presents he didn't know what to do with himself.
The highlight of gift-opening time: The Unwrapping of The-Guitar-From-Cadie. Tadhg was so overcome that he had his own guitar that he was struck dumb. All he could do to manage his overwhelming pleasure was quietly grin and duck shyly into his Lachlan.
Tuckered-out birthday boy finally is brave enough to do a bit of groggy singing with his new guitar after the rest of the world has turned into white noise.
A hearty thank you to all who came and celebrated Tadhg's life with us. We are blessed to have you in our lives.
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