22 + 2 = 2?!

The handsomest men I know

Mac is 22 months old today. When I'm asked how old he is, I usually respond, "He'll be two in October." For ages, I could barely choke out "one" as an answer to the same question. Now Mac is undeniably not just one.

Pushing TWO. My baby boy is no longer. Tear.

The good news? The toddler who has replaced him is a delight. A busy, loud, challenging delight.

The last month has been a wonderful one. We spent a full week at the beach, visited the Upstate Children's Museum, splashed a-plenty at the pool and watched Mac have his first swim lessons.


Mac has worked on mastering stairs, a thousand new words, the understanding that Big Bird's name isn't "Elmo bird" and an even more impressive ability to mimic everything he hears and narrate everything he does and sees.

I told Mac once earlier this week, as he was crying, no less, that I loved him "to the moon." He stopped crying immediately and said, "Love you moon, Mama." Now he says it almost hourly. Melt me!

Clearly Mac has picked up on my reaction, as he yelled through his closed bedroom door several times after I put him down: "Dud joo moon, Mommy! Dud joo, moon!"

Mac has doubled his number of teeth this month. A slow teether, he had four up top and two on the bottom until just last week. He cut four molars and, even as I type, is busting out two new bottom teeth to balance out the little pearlies up top. Whew, that's some hard work. And it looks like a few more may be in store. He's making up for lost teething time, that's for sure.

I can't wait to see what my twenty-two month-old has in store for us in the coming days. I'm going to hang on to "one" as long as I can, though. (Cue "Jack and Diane" playing in the background.)

Where has this summer gone? October 5 will be here before we know it.