The Two turn 2 tomorrow.
I’m one part excited, one part ecstatic we’ve all survived two years.
And 98 parts devastated.
These are my very last babies. And they’ve been babies for so long.
But tomorrow they officially leave their baby years behind and I’ll be left reminiscing.
Which will probably involve much crying and sniffing of tiny pieces of clothing.
But it’s entirely best that no more babies come of mine and Pal’s glorious union.
Lest our family photos begin to look something like this:
He’ll be 32.
He’s still cranky he didn’t get a proper party for his 30th.
But even he will admit that it’s hard to throw someone a decent birthday party from a hospital bed.
Even if I did birth his twin sons in time to be guests at the very swanky shindig.
It involved takeaway pizza and a visit to the NICU.
Best. Birthday. EBBER.
Right Pal? Right?
Unfortunately for Pal, this year doesn’t hold much excitement for his birthday either.
Unless he wants to dress up like a superhero for the Two’s KAPOW party on Saturday.
And I’m pretty sure that concept holds more excitement for me than for Pal…
PICTURE REMOVED. FOR SAFETY PURPOSES. MY SAFETY.
He’s going to kill me for this.
It’s worth it.
What’s on at yours this week?