Happy Birthday my little man.
You’re a silly little goose, a dare-devil, a performer, Mr Athletic, a cheeky monkey, a very determined little soul.
You love you big sister. She’s your idol. You copy her – everything she does and says.
You’re a parrot. You have been talking so much. You can count to fifteen, say ‘Please’ and ‘Nank you’. You can ask to be excused from the table with “May I be excuse me please?”
You are so smart. You are great at shape-sorting and can name the hard shapes like hexagon and trapezoid. You can recite your alphabet (close enough). You love singing, even if it comes out “Murray had a little lamb”. Boys can have lambs. Boys can also demand hair ties and sometimes a fairy is better than a pirate. As long as it’s a loud stompy fairy.
After all the havoc, you still love a cuddle. Not any cuddle – it has to be a ‘big cuddle’ that involves heaving you off the ground and squeezing you close. You may be tough-and-rumble, but you’re mummy’s boy at heart.
What a tiring but lovely two years it’s been my son. Love you lots.