I'm still in denial. Rhett is 2.

I have a two year old. When I fill out his paperwork at daycare I can no longer write 23 months. I just write 2 years. What the hell? How did that happen? 

I remember like it was yesterday that I was laying in bed and Chad was crunching on stale fritos. I was getting so sick of the heavy dog breath on me that I decided to humor them by giving in to their chip addictions and then BAM. Broken water. 

I then decided that I wanted to shower and shave my legs before going to the hospital. 

So I did. 

I also called my Dad on his cell phone to alert him to the fact that my water broke. 

Words fathers are so very fond of hearing I'm sure. 

I called my boss to let him know I wouldn't be at the C.A.R.E. fair that following day because I'd be busy giving birth. 

Words bosses are so fond of hearing I'm sure. 

And then we had a baby. Just like that. 

Now that baby is 2. Just like that.

And so despite my denial, I managed to throw a little birthday bash with just the 3 of us (plus dog).

I hung a 1 Euro birthday banner and we walked to the blumen field for 60 Euro cent sunflowers.

We had water fun and Rhett was allowed to play with the hose until his heart was content (and till the grass was utterly saturated).

Meatloaf chose not to celebrate this evening but instead hide behind the BBQ and hope that a rib or two would fall to his paws.

Chad got in the birthday spirit although I'm not sure if it was for himself or for Rhett. We definitely had to have a conversation about developmentally appropriate toys. I felt it important to remind Chad that his son is 2, not 15. Especially when he gave Rhett an Ipad. 

Yes, this is a true story. 

 
We had to recreate this moment twice because Chad nor I realized that Rhett knew how to blow out a candle and we had just barely broken into our 'Happy Birthday' number.

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And then because I'm Mom of the Year, I let my daycare provider throw him a wonderful birthday party complete with traditional Filipino cuisine (which totally blew our birthday celebration out of the water).

This shows Rhett with an entire lumpia shoved in his mouth. One of about 8 that I saw him consume during this birthday lunch. Whatever, kid, it's your birthday. Knock yourself out.

Happy Birthday, Boogie. 

We just love you to pieces. 

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Oh and I promise to stop telling you the story of your birth very soon. 

It should be out of my system shortly.