It can be really hard to get a good photo of this kid. My baby.
My photos of him are nearly all blurry, but I guess, in truth, this is a valid representation of him, and of his babyhood. He is a force, a charming, never ceasing, smirking, too big for his britches force.
He uses words like “destiny” and tells me, “watch your tone,” should I have the nerve to raise my voice. He tells jokes (“Why did the chicken cross the road?”) and he tells me that I am “precious.” He puts on elabroate dancing performances. He changes our vocabulary. (That thing on his head? We all now call that a “neighborhood,” because he said so.)
He teaches me that it’s good, sometimes, to throw your head back and spin, to cease with trying to save the moment, and to just be IN the moment.
He is 2, but a very old soul, and very wise teacher.