Today is The Doodle's second birthday. He is sweet, stubborn, sly, funny, charming and absolutely full of life. He keeps us on our toes.
At age two, The Doodle still loves "higgies," but in the past month or so has developed a greater appreciation for vehicles (cars, trucks, trains, etc.): his favorite pair of pajamas are covered in different colored cars, and The Doodle will methodologically point out each on and declare "cahhhh" with equal delight for the tenth as for the first. Today on a walk we saw his first fire truck (AKA "whee-new" for the sound they make) up close and personal, and he gave it a firm slap--confirming, I think, it's real existence.
The Doodle also loves having his cheek stroked (he turns his head toward you and holds still); diving into his crib at bedtime (from which he'll randomly yell out "night night" for up to thirty minutes after being put down); and--perhaps more than anything--his big sister, "PIE-yeee."
The Doodle is fiercely independent and insists on doing everything himself. For a while he refused to hold my hand going up or down a flight of stairs. As soon as I learned to accept and deal with that precarious ascent/descent, he started equally shunning the bannister. If I don't let him climb into the car, across to his car seat, and fasten the top buckle all on his own, it ruins his whole day. And you don't want to be on the wrong side of The Doodle: he holds a serious grudge. (And when he finally gets over the grudge, he needs a good snuggle, and to be told that everything is okay.)
Just the other day a casual acquaintance told me The Doodle reminds her of "a frat boy on a Sunday morning." (How much this has to do with my anti-iron stance, I do not know.) His general appearance has also been compared--by a different and unrelated acquaintance--to that of a "disgruntled prep school student."
The Doodle owns every room he enters. He does not walk. He swaggers. I like to say he resembles Simon Baker, who plays Patrick Jane on The Mentalist. But there just might a little Donald Trump in the mix, too. (But maybe that's just the hair.)
Happy Birthday, Doodle! We love you!
Here he is on Day 1, raising hell already:
(If these pictures weren't in the "Welcome Baby West" file, we totally would have thought he was The Wog! I remembered him being blonde; Marc remembered him being bald. I guess we were both wrong!)
One year ago today:
And here he is yesterday, celebrating his friend Reid's big day (they are 1 day apart):