*BAM* I just thought we would go ahead and get the obligatory ohmygoshheissocuteitmakesmewanttopunchbettywhiteintheface picture of Alex out of the way. That face? Kills me. Slays me on a daily basis.
Especially when he's being a typical 2 year old. See also: putting his sand in the pool, farting in the bath tub (which he thinks is high-LAR-ious, btw), standing at the top of the stairs with a deathgrip on the baby gate screaming, "MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMY! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOOOOOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!" (you get the point?) at the top of his lungs, and/or his perception of reality that ice cream is, in fact, all he needs to consume for a well-balanced dinner.
Don't you see? He's becoming a PERSON. A little, tiny version of what I can only imagine is going to give me a serious run for my money at age 13. He's becoming more independent ("I can put on my shoes, Mommy."), telling us what he wants ("I want M&Ms, Daddy. A brown one.") and has an opinion on basically everything ("I want to watch Special Agent OSO, Mommy.") For the record, I will state here and now that if the actual Special Agent OSO ever shows up on my doorstep, I will punch him in his bear groin until he weeps magical bear tears in three special steps.
The moral of this story is that Alex is ri-donk-ulous. And I'm loving it. And bears should stay away from my doorstep.
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