Last Saturday, Sam had his Golden Birthday — he turned two on the 2nd of June. Another year has flown by. Since his birthday fell on a Saturday, we had his party on the same day.
Sam is still doing really well with his speech therapy. His teacher has been very pleased with his progress over the last six months, and so are we. He has many handy words in his vocabulary now and his willing to repeat just about anything you say to him. Lydia has taken advantage of this by teaching him the words “poop” and “tee-tee.”
When Sam was first born, I tried to get him to take a pacifier like Lydia did. I tried so hard. Alas, I was doomed to failure, and Sam has always sucked his fingers. He still does, and we have attempted a few different remedies to get him to stop — his fingers are NASTY — but no luck so far. I have so many pictures of him with . . . The Fingers.
Sam still has a mercurial personality, and perhaps always will. One second he will be playing happily and then suddenly he will get set off by something — a toy, his sister, lack of juice — and he instantly morphs into meltdown mode. He’s very good at wielding his head as a weapon to create fat lips. We’ve learned to ignore him and make a wide berth.
Just as suddenly — especially if distracted — Sam can perform an other about-face and be the sweetest, most cuddly little boy. He loves to give hugs and kisses whenever anyone asks for them. He has the most spectacular laugh that sounds a bit like a squeaky toy. Lydia can still get him to laugh better than anybody else. He can be quite the ham.
Sam is very fond of things that “do stuff” — anything that beeps, lights up, or moves is great fun. Keep your iPhones guarded around him, he knows how to unlock them.
Sam has fallen in love with the outdoors this year. As soon as he’s up (and well-fed) on the weekends, he’s dragging us to the front door, chanting, “‘Side! ‘Side!” He could play out there all day, preferably shoeless. He got a swing for Christmas that he loves to sit in for 30 minute stretches. I’ve given up on reprimanding him for dumping sand out of the sandbox. Then there’s the water hose — he loves to turn that thing on then immediately get himself soaking wet.
He’s a dirt hound as well. Sam will dig in the dirt until the soil is halfway up underneath his fingernails. *shudder* One of his thumbnails is pretty bad, actually. He would rather have messy dirt over good clean sand any day.
Speaking of well-fed, Sam is still quite the eater. There are days where I am sure he has eaten so much he is going to be sick later, but he keeps it all down. When it comes to food, him and Lydia are complete opposites. I’m not sure where he puts it all!
We are still avoiding eggs and rice, so we have to be vigilant lest Sam wolf down a meringue pie or cheese omelet before we’re none the wiser. We’re supposed to try some rice with him again, but I haven’t yet built up the courage. Mayyyybe when he’s twelve.
Now we’re in that weird three-week limbo where Sam is two but Lydia has a few more weeks before she’s four. She is a bit antsy about all the new awesome beeping new toys in Sam’s room and the 23rd feels like a long way away for her. She’s very insistent that Sam has to share. Sam is insistent that Lydia needs to hold her horses.