Twomorrow

Dear Lane,

I've begged and pleaded and tried to figure out how to put an end to this whole thing. However, no matter what I do it appears as if you have other plans.

Plans that include turning two.

So, I'll do my best to help you celebrate tomorrow. We'll have a party. Invite your family and best friends.

We will celebrate all that you are and all that you've given us over these last two years. I'll probably cry. Not because I'm sad. More because I'm so happy to have you as my own.

If I'm being honest, I have to say that as much as I miss that little tiny baby I brought home two years ago, I love this big boy toddler so, so much.

I guess I could keep denying the fact that I can't freeze time, but, truthfully, I enjoy this whole growing up into your own unique self.

I love the little boy you've become.

Hearing you speak in sentences, "Squirrel eat acorn, Mama," you told me as you watched out this window.

Listening to you boss around your papa, "No, Papa. No, nap. Play cars, Papa." Your the only person I know who can tell your papa what to do - and he actually listens.

Teaching you how to count, "Two, Three, Four, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten." Who needs One or Five. Certainly not you.

Recalling memories of times with friends. "I pick apples with Drew," you tell me at least once a week.

Seeing at two the type of man you will be 20 years from now.

How you methodically line up your cars - a game we play at least a dozen times a day - before racing each one of them across the playroom floor.

How routine is so very important to you.

Papa must give you a bubble tubbie. Books must be read before bed. White socks must be worn with pajamas - not the comfy slippers I purchased for you earlier this week.

"No, mama. No. No comky socks. White socks," you told me.

Watching you with your short hair. How you love her so much.

"Hi Mae Mae," you tell her each morning when you wake.

"I copy Mae Mae," you tell me as you chase her around the house mimicking her moves: from grring to sitting to shaking your papa's hand.

"Mae Mae play backyard," you insist every day. And she does. She follows you outside and plays along with you in the afternoon.

Because there's no where else you would rather be than outside playing: throwing a football, digging in the dirt, running the length of the yard or messing around in the fir trees.

You show us the moon each night. Point out birds in the sky. Know how to call squirrels and turkeys. Sit patiently and watch the deer graze in the field by Papa's office.

Before you were born, Papa and I decided we would promote a love of the outdoors in our child.

We didn't know it would come so naturally.

Tomorrow, we will leave one behind and say hello to two.

I guess I'll give you that.

After all, you've given us so much more than we could have ever wanted or asked for. You are the boy who turned James and Lana into Papa and Mama.

No matter how old you get and how much time goes by that will stay the same. We will always be your parents.

Our life will forever be better because of Lane.

Happy birthday Lane Thomas.

We love you.

Mama and Papa