Tornado

Dear Romey,

Twenty-five days ago you turned two. As I’ve indicated in previous blog posts, I’ve felt the ominous two-year-old stuff approaching for months, sort of like a scary storm moving in on the horizon—the kind where you want to run into the basement and hide, but then you realize that there is no basement, not even a house! Instead you have to stand in the rain, and plant your feet firmly on the ground, and take the pelting rain, hail, and sleet LIKE A MAN.

Allegory aside, someone must have read my blog post to you; you know, the one where I laid down a mighty challenge for you to “up your game.” You have not only managed to “up your game” but you’ve surpassed my (and your father’s) expectations and have become a high-knee-foot-stomping-screaming-roaring-arms-crossing-irrational-tantrum-throwing-TORNADO. You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with, and if you weren’t my second child, I’d be taking this behavioral stuff personally. Instead, I’m chalking up this behavioral shift to a natural developmental phase called two-year-old negativism (mixed with a side of passion, temper, and frustration). So, that, Romey, is the reason why I’m twenty-five days late with my birthday wish to you. I have been busy going toe-to-toe with you, and when not so engaged I’ve been recovering.

And, of course, there’s another side to you as well. You are unabashedly sweet, smiley, friendly, and happy-go-lucky. You are also mischievous and sneaky, and fiercely independent.

Your perfect day includes anything Elmo, or Yo Gabba Gabba. You love juice (“joo”), candy, cookies, and anything Avery is eating. You are fearless, and love to leap and be caught. You absolutely love being read to, and piles, and piles of books are often an indication of where we’ve planted for the day. You love to cuddle, and are still a hopeless mama’s girl. You love your pacifier or “Bobby” (Daddy calls it ‘Robert’) and your purple blanket. You don’t know this yet but YOUR New Year’s resolution is to give up your “Bobby.”

You love to imitate frogs and puppies, and get a real thrill out of playing with animals. And, your little vocabulary continues to grow—mama/dada has recently been upgraded to mommy/daddy, you are combining words, and overall just understanding more and communicating more clearly. Your favorite words are ‘mine,’ and ‘no.’

Your appearance still, at times, takes me by surprise. You have gorgeous deep brown eyes that look just like your Great-Grandpa Hofmeyer’s. You are unexpectedly blonde, blonde, blonde, and have a killer smile. I would say that the Hofmeyer DNA runs strong with you (even beyond your appearance).

Romey, your dynamic little persona continues to amaze us. You are a tremendously fun and spicy addition to our family. And, although I sometimes linger outside the van, where the screaming is slightly muffled, and I’m silently (or audibly) missing my “old life,” I hope you know that you are sincerely loved and I feel privileged to have you.

Happy belated second birthday little Ro—you are loved.

Love,
Mom