my little “nephew” Mason turned 2 on Friday. His mom and I each had a good cry (okay, make that cries) as the day approached. We mourned the passing of time, the chubby baby hands that have become strong kid hands, the baby who we could plop in a soft laundry basket while we folded laundry and who would actually stay there, and the baby who we held and cradled and kissed without struggling to get away. As I was so choked up I could barely work on Friday, I realized that this is so much better. This 2 year old is constantly saying new words and putting together little sentences, running through the playground on steady feet, and showing us he loves us in ways better than we could’ve ever imagined. 2 isn’t so bad. Yes, it’s 16 years away from being 18 (OH MY GOD this always makes me sob) but aging is no reason to cry, only to celebrate.
Okay, I’m choked up all over again. Happy belated birthday, Mason.
