The Finnpocalypse, Age 2

Happy happy birthday to my sweet Finn!  I can't believe that you are already two years old.  I still call you "the baby" and love to nibble on your toes and kiss your tubby stomach.  One of these days I'm going to have to write up your birth story - it's one of the greats.  We call you Finn-Finn, the Finnster, the Finnebago, the Finnpocalypse. 

You are a ball of joy, and make everyone who sees you shake their head and laugh, and tell me that I've "got my hands full with this one."  And it's true - since you could crawl, the first thing you do when entering a room is to scan it for something you aren't supposed to get into, and then immediately jump on that thing.  One time when you were about 18 months old your dad found you attempting to scale the chimney, from the inside.  You attack life, you enjoy every second of it.  You are rarely whiny or clingy, but always trying to leap out of my arms to try something new or explore what's just around the corner. 

Today you kept wishing everyone a happy birthday, and had a big plate of french fries (your favorite) for dinner.  You tackled your big brother when he tried to hug you goodnight.  I love you, birthday boy.