Today, you turn two.
Sometime in the last six or so months, I feel like you’ve changed. You’re no longer our baby. You’re our child. I look at you and see a small boy, rather than an infant.
I’m wholly unprepared for this.
You’re talking now. Sometimes I can understand. Sometimes I need your mother to translate. Sometimes we’re both completely flummoxed. To be able to really communicate with you—to have even a tiny inkling of what’s going on in your head—changes everything.
It’s fascinating to see the world through your eyes. To see you react to things you’ve never seen. To try things you’ve never tried. To learn to cope with feelings you don’t quite understand.
Sometimes you’re frustrating. I’m told I can be, as well, from time to time.
Days like today, and most days, really, you remind me how lucky we are to have you in our lives. How lucky we are that, somehow, by some miracle, you arrived in our family.
I look back on the journey we took before you arrived, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember asking when our infant became a baby; how our baby could already be one. Were you born yesterday, or was it two years ago?
The days can be long. The years are always short.
I’m already looking forward to the next one. And every one I’m lucky enough to share with you after.
Happy birthday, Declan! I love you.
-Dad