A year and 6 months longer than the Macarena

Dear Jackson,

Well look at you, kiddo. 2 years old. That's more than the rise and fall of a few third world dictatorships. A hell of a lot more than some relationships I've had in my life. Less than how long I've had my glasses or have been to the doctor.

I have to say that I am awfully proud of you. You have learned a lot in the past year, and have taught me more. You figured out which one of us will cave in first depending on the situation.
You figured out that you can get two treats if you ask one grandparent in the kitchen and the other out on the patio.
You are getting really good with the fork, and with drinking out of a big boy cup.
You remember everybody's name now, and even though your mom and I are the only ones who understand what you are saying most of the time, you seem to be okay with that.
You hate it when the dogs sit on your blanket.
You love tractors, cars and airplanes with a crack-head like fervor.
You don't care that paw-paw gave you a horrible haircut, you love him just the same.
You are a happy, well adjusted little boy, which is more of a reflection of your mother than me, I'm afraid.
And although you know full well what a fit is and when to use it, we don't really care because we know that someone who is only two years old has very little control over their lives, and would like to keep what little control they do have. You make up for it in kind, as in that day a few weeks ago, when I hadn't seen you for a few days, and when I poked my head around the corner, you yelled my name and ran as fast as you could, arms wide open and I scooped you and your big smile up for a hug .

Two years ago, I had just started a new job, was moving to a different city and was awaiting a child. All of those apply today as well, though I hope I'm handling it all a bit better. Just relax and keep in mind that every time I shake things up like this, things usually end up better than they were before. Usually.

I do it all for you and your mom, buddy. You two are the best things ever, and your little sibling will be the icing on the cake. Actually, most cakes have icing, so maybe new baby will be a figurine or something.

I love you, son. Happy birthday.

-Dad