We put Asa's highchair in the attic this weekend. The mornings of wheeling my little guy over to the counter for breakfast have passed and now it's his birthday. Proof that he's not my baby, but he is two.
Two means he can climb up onto the barstool without needing "Asa's stool" anymore. He can find his way outside by himself and gets lost in the joy of sifting in the dirt. And in his mind, two means he no longer needs to drink from a sippy cup.
We celebrated Asa with plenty of "rawrs", trucks, and a dinosaur cake. His excitement reached a level so high I must say it had to have been the best day of his life.
Screeches of "ruck!" and even more "rawrs" came out of the mouth of my little boy who usually refuses to speak. He forgot himself and literally jumped up and around.
I love the excitement of two.
I love my Buddy Boo.
Happy Birthday Asa!