I love birthdays. LOVE THEM. I feel like the entire world is supposed to make sure everything is just a little more awesome for you on your birthday.
So when Charlie woke up on Thursday as a two-year-old, I burst into his room with a “HAPPY BIRTH–”
He stood smiling in his crib with his balled up jammy pants in one hand, and a very wet diaper in the other.
“I poot,” he announced, and yes, I could smell it.
My heart raced, but there was no “poot” in his crib…just a crumb of one in his diaper.
“Where? where did you poot, Charlie?”
Thankfully Cortney had the wherewithal to take the nekkid booty baby and put a clean diaper on him while I searched. I left the room, came back, could still smell it, and searched some more.
It was under the rocking chair.
Across the room from his bed.
Thus started The Bird’s Second birthday. We should have all agreed that was the highlight of the day and quit trying. But birthdays are AWESOME! It can only go up from here! Onward and upward!
I forgot about a birthday treat for daycare.
It’s ok! Tomorrow! Tomorrow he can bring one!
Off he went to daycare, in his new “2” shirt.
The plan was that I would pick up a small birthday cake and meet Cort with the boys home by 5pm to head to Red Robin (YUM!) for birthday dinner. We always do birthday dinner at a restaurant, and long ago Eddie decided ALL birthday dinners take place at Red Robin (YUM!).
The downfall of the evening was chocolate milk coupled with Charlie’s deep disdain of getting out of routine. By going out to eat rather than home, and then by not allowing him to get more chocolate milk (because he was wearing half of the first glass), created an evil vortex of toddler rage that began at the table and forced me into the ladies room with him so the rest of the patrons could eat their Red Robin (YUM!) tantrum-free.
When he calmed down and I asked him if he wanted to go back to the table he declared, “no! I walk here.”
Dude wanted to stay in the bathroom and play.
I talked him into going back to the table only to arrive and have Eddie tell me with concern that he had to use the restroom. For the third time.
So I took him back to the ladies room, got him in a stall to do his business, and held his door shut.
In a small voice he explained he was having a hard time going with his boots and pants on because it was hard to balance, so I helped the little guy remove the constricting clothing and carry on with his business.
This is when I took the opportunity to peek out of the bathroom at our table. Charlie had become an anger ball again, and I could see Cortney didn’t know what to do since he couldn’t leave the table. I leaned out of the bathroom and gestured to let Charlie just come to the bathroom since I know that is what he wanted. I told Cort to just pay the bill, box up the food, and grab our stuff.
So there I was, in the ladies room (thank all the goodness that no one came into the restroom during all this), with a half nekkid boy on the can and a toddler running around slamming stall doors. It felt like it took our waitress and Cortney an eternity to get the bill squared away, but eventually he came walking to the restroom with our coats.
Eddie was sad because he had really been very good and he was looking forward to the staff singing to Charlie, and Charlie was raging because he is two. He tried to plank himself when we got in the car for no other reason than he could, which prompted him to cry LOUDLY the entire way home.
Cake seemed to cheer him up.
And eating the cake. Although we went through the “do you want cake?”
cue all the tears because we aren’t serving him cake.
“Do you want cake?”
Then there was some more drama about getting cleaned up to open the gift.
And more madness when big brother wanted to help “too much”.
Once the gift was open and put together and everyone had jammies on…there was fighting over the new toy.
So we put it away, turned on Curious George, calmed down, and went to bed.
The day was…trying.
Charlie is now two and very two.
We had a party for him with just family on Saturday which went a bit better, but Charlie’s strong-will and headstrong ways increase each day.
Because he is two.
Happy Second Birthday, Charlie.
We love you!