Happy birthday, Ryder!
It's funny, we celebrated Jayden's 2nd birthday the weekend that we moved into this house and now we're celebrating Ryder's right before we move out. I'm using the term "celebrated" very loosly here. We're talking, "crap, do I even have to get him any presents, ok, let's run to Fry's and see what we can find that will either fit in a suitcase or break before we actually leave". That morning everyone was either gone or still asleep, so me, Maddox and Ryder had our own little rainbow pancake breakfast and opened his $10 budget presents. Tyson and Dawn moved into their new house that day so we got to play with baby John while Kylie helped them move in, then later that evening we had pizza and went swimming with them at their community pool (although they some how dodged every picture, too bad!). It was a low key birthday, but the good thing about two year olds is that it doesn't take much for them to be happy. He's been carrying around his $1 candy filled truck all day like it was made of gold. I don't think he even minded that I bypassed all the 6 inch buttercream flourescent frosted cupcakes in lieu of the more mature strawberry cake. Nah, those plastic Lightning McQueen ring toppers are just overrated. But in all seriousness, this boy of mine is a peach. If I had to pick my very favorite thing that he does at this very moment, it has to be his apologies. He apologizes for everything and to everyone. If he drops his baba: "sowwy baba", if he sits on his teddy: "sowwy teddy", if he spills something on his blankey: "sowwy bankey", if he accidentally or not so accidentally hurts somebody: "sowwy Ky" (even if it's not Kylie), but the "sowwy mama" is something I could never get tired of hearing. Even if it is preceeded by a tinker toy whack to the head. On an unrelated note, he is deathly afraid of imaginary snakes and bears. He actually thinks everything is "scawy", even his own shadow. True story. In other news, Dora is still explorin' all the freaking time these days and baby boy can be found planted on the couch with his baba and blankey in tow at any given time of the day. Sometimes he'll pat the seat next to him and insist that I sit and watch the entire show with him, which would pretty much be torture except for the fact that he lets me sneak an arm around him and squish him ever so subtly closer to me until we are, what some might call, "cuddling". Just don't tell him, he's not a fan of the "C" word. He may not be my cuddle bug, but he manages to rock my world on a daily basis. Yes, I am one smitten kitten.