This was supposed to be one of those super-sweet, super-sappy love letters, kind of like Heather or Matt write to their kids. But today I've either been chasing you around, giving your sister a bottle, or tending to the million-and-one things the usual Wednesday brings to a campus pastor. Plus, while I've been uploading some pictures, you've pulled all the movies out of the cabinet, same as always, and now it sounds like you're upstairs grabbing the silver out of the drawer again.
So, let me quickly say this: I love being your dad. I love the fact that in your two years, I can count the number of mornings you've woke up grumpy on one hand, with fingers left over. I love that you will laugh your head off if I pretend to bump my head into the wall (and you'll laugh even harder if I do it for real). I love the sight of you and your sister smiling and laughing at each other. I love that tonight, you got out one of our old photo albums and asked me to sit and look at it with you. I love giving you Supermans, Big Squeezes and Zurberts, and I even love how you never, ever slow down.
Thank you, baby doll, for bringing such joy and love into our lives. We're so very, very proud of you, and your mother and I love you more than anything except Jesus, each other, and your sister, so you've got that going for you, too.
Now I'm going to close, because it sounds like you just fell off the chair and bumped your head on the floor. Good thing you got a thick skull from Daddy: it looks like it's going to come in quite handy.