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February 9, 2018 by Heather

Dear Oliver,

Last month you turned two and a half, and I’m writing this because I believe in half birthdays.  There is a lot I want to say.  So much I want to write about so my future self can look back and remember everything.  It’s impossible, though.  I’ll never be able to fully describe this current life stage you are in, except to say that I’m obsessed with every ounce of your challenging, stubborn, infuriating self.  They don’t call it the terrible twos for nothing.

I’m writing this during a slow day at work before I go to class.  I cry during my drive here almost every morning, but that’s a post for another day.  For now I’ll just say that I feel like I’m missing out on the beautiful horribleness that is you at two and a half years old.  Somedays I’m grateful to not have to deal with it, but most days I’d rather just hunker down with you at home and suffer through it.  At least that way I wouldn’t miss everything I feel like I’m missing.  They say life is long, though, and that these last few months of grad school will fly by. They better be right.

You keep us laughing.  At home we all vie for your attention because you love fiercely and fully.  You love to dance, sing, and play music on your “tar-tar.”  You also love to color and make huge artistic messes.  You still don’t like to watch TV.  People say this is a good thing, but every now and then it’d sure be nice if you’d watch something for 30 minutes while I make dinner.  Your favorite food is everything, but especially pizza, even cold pizza.  We took your pacifier away before the holidays, but you recently found one in the bottom of a box and you’re just so much nicer with one in that we let you have it for a few hours in the evenings.

I’ll let some pictures explain the rest.

I love you so, so much.



















This pretty much sums things up.



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