Life with my favorite two year old

Life with my favorite two year old includes this:

(Please notice smeared cookie dough on countertop behind him. Shoot! That two inches he's put on since September really helped him out... his fingers juuuuuuuust barely reached high enough to squish without being able to grab the whole thing...)

Life with my two year old also includes this:

Bye, bye, Aubrey's little fledgling acorn squash... (but shhh, don't tell her, because she's forgotten about it). Bye bye also, to a total of (so far) 11 tomatoes which will never make it to their full stature, much less one of my salads, due to some short person's overzealousness in picking.

I've give you one clue who did this:
(I found this severely finger poked lipstick after the fact and so I know there's got to be pink lipstick smeared somewhere where it shouldn't be.)

We had stake conference yesterday, and while I went optimistically, about halfway through I was reminded why I don't particularly like sitting through what is essentially double sacrament meeting, and this is why: we had to be there almost an hour early for Chad to practice with the choir, which meant he would be sitting with the choir, leaving me alone with the children. I am supportive of Chad singing in the choir, as he has an amazing voice, but being alone with the children during two hours of "let's be quiet" reverence time is not my favorite thing to attempt. I try really hard to keep the kids and myself in the chapel if at all possible, I was ready to do battle though and had brought as many small, quiet diversions as I could possibly fit into my canvas bag, my purse, and Aubrey's church bag. I felt sort of like a pack animal, weighed down with those things, my scriptures (which I'm not even sure why I brought... did I actually think I'd get to follow along?) and my now 21 lb. boy (hooray!).

Having gotten there an hour early, by the time we were an hour in to the actual Stake Conference, my kids had already put in their two hour's worth and were ready to go. Aubrey was true to form helpful, even though she had to go, "really bad" several times. Andrew however, was fit to be tied. He'd played with everything he wanted to play with and he was done. By some miracle, I found a package of Princess fruit snacks in my bag and split them between the two kids... five for Aubs, five for Andrew. Aubrey savored each glass slipper and princess face one by one. Andrew stuffed them all in his mouth. At the same time. And then proceeded to choke on them. I didn't realize he'd tried to swallow all of them at once until he started coughing. Then choking. Then gagging. And turning beet red and stamping his feet. All in the back row of the chapel. I started panicking along with him, as quietly as possible, mind you, and whacked him on the back, hard, a few times. I am happy to report they all came back out. And into my hand. Yummy. The lady next to us was nice enough to hand me a napkin from her purse and a bottle of water for Andrew to take a drink. He did take a drink, and then he screwed the lid of the bottle back on just enough to keep it secure while he squeezed the bejeebers out of the (full, except for a few sips) water bottle from below. Wow! Water fountain! That was fun. It was like one of those umbrella style fountains at a water park, and it had the same drenching effect: Andrew was very wet. So was I, since he was on my lap. I waved the white flag of surrender. We left the chapel. We stayed out for pretty much the second hour. Even though the name of our ward is the Parkway ward, sometimes I feel like a member of the Hallway ward, especially at Stake Conference. But I was never happier to be there. Andrew too. We dried out. We laughed. We went home. Happy to be done with that for another six months.

I don't know what to do with him sometimes!

And yet, as rascally as he is, I know I'll never have another child just like him... this boy who leaves finger smears in cookie dough and lipstick, and makes fountains of water bottles during church is the same boy at dinner who cleans his plate, hands it to me, and with a smile on his face says, "all done! thank you!" And when I ask, "is it time for a nap, Andrew?" he says, "yeah!" and runs into his room to his crib, no questions asked. This boy who closes himself in the pantry (and now also his room and bathroom) and spills potting soil all over the kitchen floor is the same boy who if you ask for a kiss, he'll always give you two. Or three. Or unlimited. At the same time that he dismays me, he delights me. While life with him can be exasperating, it is also exhilarating. And that is why I love my two year old.