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He wore pink slippers--my 2-year-old, that is. You know, there are some battles I just don't fight. Today it was the shoes--his older sister's pink ballet slippers--and I called the truce. I refused to pick up my sword. Maybe the eyes of strangers were drawn to his feet. Maybe the aisles of Target were a bit more slippery. And maybe the pink feathers are now close to needing repair. But I didn't care.
He's 2.
He must have just recently received the memo. He was such a delightful young toddler--quick to obey and...well...near perfect. But now, he's 2; and it seems a page in his little life has turned.
He screams "no" in declaration of his opinion. He more frequently finds himself on the time-out step--lip sticking out, head tilting down, and huge puppy dog eyes insisting you relent.
He's 2.
But he still wants me to hold him.
He still buries his head on my shoulder; I am his safe place.
I see differently with the third child. I understand that this is only a season, and this too shall pass--more quickly than I bargained for. I get that he is trying sink into himself...at 2. I embrace that this is the next step--though I catch my eyes lingering on his little face, wanting not to forget.
He's 2.
Father, give me your vision for this little man. Raise him up to love and honor You.
1 comment:
He's such a precious, lovable boy...even when he's testing his limits.
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