Dear Delilah…

Dear Delilah,

                Oh my God!!! You just turned two!!!! Where the hell has the time gone? Seriously, yesterday you asked me for chocolate milk and I wondered where my drooling, slug-baby went. Your favorite words right now are “no” and “why” and you use them to exhaustion. I will say things like “Delilah, let’s put your shoes on” and you will scream “NO!!” and run away. I swear it happened at the exact moment you turned two. Honestly at 5:20am on March 7, 2013 you learned that you should say “no” or “why” whenever I ask you to do anything, ever. You said “no” to daddy for the first time last night and I thought the top of his head was going to blow off. Since he is not the hyper-researcher that I am, he hasn’t heard all about the stages of development and all that other crap, so after you want to bed I had to explain the whole thing to him and how you are just going through a stage that should end somewhere around the time you have children of your own and they tell you “no” for the first time.

                You are also still pretty fucking destructive. You laugh with glee every time you knock something down, spill something, chew on something, etc. The other kids at daycare have started calling you “Beast Mode” and “Godzilla”. And you are such a daredevil! My God, you scare the shit out of me all the time by diving off of things and assuming Daddy or I will catch you. To our benefit, we have yet to drop you on the floor but I, for one, am getting tired of having a heart attack 57 times a day. Don’t even get me started on taking you to the pool. It’s like you have absolutely no concept that you don’t know how to swim. Seriously, you try to swim away from us the entire time and you thrash around like an orangutan on crystal meth! So I had to buy you a goofy looking floating swimming suit so at least when you leapt out of my arms you didn’t immediately sink to the bottom. Also, I basically had to football tackle you in the grocery store parking lot the other day when you decided to run into traffic.

                Oh, and the shoes! You love shoes and think they are the greatest things since feet. Currently you have formed a strange relationship with some pink cowboy boots and some kid high-heels that your Aunt Erin sent you. I can’t get you to take them off, and when I do finally hold you down and pull them from your feet, you act like I have just poured acid on you.

However, you seem to be surviving pretty well, even though Daddy and I still feel like we have no idea what we are doing.

I love you more than Diet Pepsi Cadburry Eggs,

Mommy