Well, you’re officially two now! You’ve been acting like the “terrible twos” for months — between bursts of sunshine so brilliant that you blind everyone around you. I’m eager to see how you grow and change this year.

“No” already is one of your favorite words to say but your least favorite to hear. In fact, you scream so loudly whenever you’re told “no” that this auntie has come running on more than one occasion, expecting to see you in some sort of life-threatening crisis, only to learn that someone just refused to pick you up or something equally trivial. Sometimes you’re opinionated in funny ways. Grandpa leaned over to blow raspberries on your tummy one day and you pushed at his face. “NOT RIGHT NOW!” you pronounced imperiously.

But you love with just as much passion and enthusiasm, maybe even more. You adore your big brother and want to be like him in every way — including trying to pee standing up outside. When he pretends he’s Goliath being slain by David, you’re right by his side, tumbling to the floor with pathos and drama to equal his. At Fargo’s, you stand together by the player piano, jamming and jumping and hanging onto the keyboard. People often stop me to remark how cute you are.

You’re queen when your brother is king. You’re both knights, fighting with foam swords and plastic breastplates and shields. You’re both David with a slingshot or roaring dragons.

You’re my special buddy, too. You love being carried and “flown” like an airplane. You shriek when I go upstairs or downstairs or outside without taking you along. You’re a great snuggler, and you love to find the mouse hiding on the pages of Good Night Moon. You call me “M’ique,” which is funny because your brother used to call me “Mo’que.”

I sing “Barbara Ann” to you every time we change your diaper and, now that you’re old enough to request it, more often. I started because one of the first noises you made was “bababababa,” which reminded me of the song, and now you make that noise when you want me to sing to you. Any time now, you’ll be joining in on the chorus.

You know what and where all my tattoos are. You ask to see the “nake” on my “eg” or the tiger on my “ack”, and then you touch them gently and say, “Oooooh,” in a reverent tone. I’m almost as proud of that as I am of the fact that you know the word “snake.” In fact, a few weeks ago, you pointed at the Komodo dragon wallpaper on my laptop and said, “Nake.” Your daddy and grandpa think I’m a bad influence <insert evil cackle here>. At the zoo, though, you’re far more intrigued by the peacocks than by the reptiles. We’ve had to restrain you from chasing after those gaudy males and the slightly more subdued peahens. You love looking at animal pictures and asking what they all are.

You have your daddy wrapped so tightly around your little finger that it’s amazing there’s any circulation left. The rest of us cherish you, too. You are a beautiful, smart, funny, fun, joyful little girl, and all of our lives are much richer because you’re part of them.

I love you!

M’ique