Dear Brooks,

I know what you must have heard.  You're two now.  It's time to let us know your opinion about everything.  Time to perfect your fit-throwing in public places so that you get the maximum return on your energy.  Time to use your words selectively so that you can very clearly instruct me what song you'd like in the car, when to give you your milk cup (which remarkably is always "NOW!"), and which of your sisters has last offended you.  Also time to turn your new language skills to mush when it is more convenient to simply grow red-faced and belligerent because Mommy does not understand your caveman grunts.

It's time to refuse to sit still at a meal.  Or to eat a meal that consists of anything other than cookies.  Time to declare all toys "Mine!" and wrestle anyone and everyone who may beg to differ.  It's time to see how many times a day you can say, "No."  Bonus points for volume.

I'm writing today to tell you--Dare to be Different. When your friends are asking you about your weekend conquests, it's ok with me for you to tell them you're just not into the whole Terrible Two thing.  Shrug your shoulders.  Tell them the four year old crowd is cooler and they don't do it, so why should you?  Or even lie.  Tell them you're the terriblest of them all.  I don't care.  But please, for the sake of your mommy's heart and mind, please oh please abandon your quest to prove your Two-ness.  I've lived through it twice already.  I get it.  You're big and bad.  Now come give me a hug.

Love,
Mommy