Two

Two years old today. Somehow, the addition of that title makes him that much more grown up. It seems like two days ago, not years, that we brought Greyson home. We were the last couple to leave our ward. Everyone who delivered the same day as I had, were already discharged. Decideding to make the most of the on-call advice, room service and unlimited juice, we stayed until they kicked us out. I remember driving Greyson home, this foreign little object with a cone-shaped head, terrified yet exhilarated. Our lives have truly never been the same.

I went to get Greyson this morning, and when I opened the door and greeted him, he replied "Good morning!" (no translation, that is actually what he said). When you ask Greyson, "How old are you today?", he replies, "Two!" He can sing the Happy Birthday song and loves it when Lola sings with him. In the week that Lola and Lolo have been here, he's bid farewell to "Bubay" and "Wa wa" and now says "blueberry" and "water" like a big person. Something about the Filipino accent must sound clearer to him that the murky American we speak. The other day, Dad asked him, "What are you eating there?" and he replied, "Cereal." My baby is answering questions.

We spend the morning with Lola and Lolo in Muir Woods. After that, it was nap time and frenetic party preparation. Roque and his parents executed Phase Two of our yard makeover (Phase One was when they visited last year). I was upstairs making his birthday cake and petite sandwiches. Throughout the day, I just kept looking at him in wonder. How did we get here? I now understand why people see their children as babies forever. How could you not, after going through all that you do? I look at my child, and I see my greatest accomplishment, my Joy of joys and my teacher of patience. These last two years have not always been easy, but if I had to pick a theme for them, it'd be growth. Children stretch you until you can't give any more, then you grow new pieces of you that make up the difference, and you become a parent.