We are sneaking around the corner on two. And, I’ve been reflecting lately, on how much easier this year was than last year. But, I’m holding my breath and waiting to see those signs of terrible two appear.

Luke has been a delight lately. Sure, there’s whining. And sometimes he gets too excited and plays too rough. But he listens when we ask him to stop. He sulks when he gets a correction and (so far) talking to him has been about the extent of what he needs to stop something that isn’t appropriate.

He’s full of new words surprising us each day with some new insight. Whether it’s counting, the alphabet, a song or animal sounds, he’s picked up something each day that never ceases to make me laugh. He wants to be included in everything and desperately wants to help.

Just recently, he started saying “Love you too” which melts my heart every time I hear it even when it isn’t at me. But I’m wistful that he has moved on from his iconic reply of simply whispering “Too.” At night, he now knocks on the door to our apartment and waits for Eric to answer. I’m not sure where he ever saw us do that. He’s taken to hiding himself under piles of pillows and jumping out with glee

It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, we went through a period of biting this fall. It seemed like on a weekly, sometimes daily basis, we were picking Luke up at day care with reports of him snacking on his classmates. After a brief meeting with the owner of the daycare, we agreed on a course of action that put an end to it pretty quickly.

I’m dancing the line of enjoying his growth so that we can continue doing new things together and taking him on new adventures but wanting him to stay small and able to fit in my arms. I love that he can climb up the slide at the playground without help and we know that he’s cautious enough to handle himself on the way down. But I miss him making little baby coos as much as I love hearing his big-boy laugh.

I am finding myself dreading two and the temper-tantrums I’m told will come with it. That my happy-go-lucky kid who is usually happier to watch the other kids at the park than jump into the fray himself will become a wailing stomping whining mess. I’m actually dreading potty training because I’m too impatient to spend that much time waiting for him in the bathroom and I’m traveling so much I’m wondering if he’ll revert.

Overall, I’m grateful that there are enough annoying things about each age that make me want to move on with it and enough milestones ahead to look forward too. Otherwise I’m sure to be that mom in the bleachers during graduation, blubber about where here baby went…oh who am I kidding. Start collecting the tissues now!

P.S. Because you asked about my yarn haul I had to share. It was certainly not the deal you nabbed but, it’s enough yarn that with some major life purchases on the horizon, I know I won’t be running short even without any acquisitions.

Mannings is a farm in the area that was teaching weaving, spinning and I think dyeing, long before knitting hit its latest pop-culture spur. I’ve been one or two other times in the last decade of stitching myself, grabbing some local yarns that are great staples. So, when I heard they were going out of business I was sad that an independent group wasn’t able to keep their doors open. Especially on the heels of learning that my two local yarn stores in LA shut their doors this year. As holiday luck and toddler nap schedules would have it, my mom and I were able to coordinate a quick trip over to Mannings before they boarded up for good. Luke took skeins of Debbie Bliss off the shelves. While I did damage to just about everything else.

Go figure, the first project I popped on the needles when I got home was with a yarn that my mom and I picked up during one of her visits to LA when I was pregnant with Luke. I guess like a fine wine, my yarn needs to age in the stash for a bit before I can decide what to do with it.