Wilder is two. Aaaaannnnddd...exhale.

Happy Birthday to my now two-year old!
Wilder, You are the song I sing--loudly. I sing you in the shower and I sing you at night. I sing you high, sing you low. Sing to friends. Sing in the snow.

You are the tippiest tip of my mountain. I would do anything for you. You make my heart flutter.
At two, you are the spitting image of your father, but with my blue eyes. Your hair is long and curly and I love running my fingers through it after your bath. You still suck your thumb, which was cute when you were a baby. But now it's getting a little old. Ha.

You are still a cuddler, but only on your terms. You are ticklish. You are fast and furious. You are smart and talk ninety miles an hour, repeating everything I say. My favorite thing you say is, "I love you, too." You say "sorry" after being disciplined, without my asking. You could live on hot dogs and french fries (sometimes you do). You like to have me go with you on the slipper slide.
You remember the words to songs better than I do. You kicked vacation Bible school's butt! You call teeth "eggs." You have very abstract thinking (you see shapes in every day things).
My heart swells with pride at all that you've accomplished. You break my heart in good ways then end up putting it back together. And sometimes you break it in bad ways because you can be naughty. It is just the nature of mankind, unfortunately.

There are people reading this letter to you so I better keep it short. Because, quite frankly, I could write about you all day. When it comes to you, there is no end to the chapters I write.
I love you mightily, now and forever.
Mommy

p.s.--have I mentioned I am proud of you? That my arms will always be open?