Second Child, Second Birthday

I don't know what the statute of limitations is for reporting your son's second birthday, but Marcus hasn't turned 3 so I think I'm good. He turned two on June 6th. We went all-out for his birthday, of course (we had family over for a BBQ). Here he is posing with his cake.

We all know what he's thinking about...

And here he goes! Karen wasn't watching him and I wanted to see how this would unfold.

Here's tip from Marcus: In order to scoop cake into your face quickly, it's best to place your mouth as close to the bowl as possible.

Next we opened presents. He got a train set from my parents. The train set came in a big box (forefront). He LOVED the box. Later, after we hid the box , he decided that the train set was pretty darn fun too.

 

We celebrated Karen's Dad John's 39th birthday on the same day.  Luis bought Marcus and "Grampie" matching gifts. Only Marcus' gift was much larger.

 

When we visited the Dare family a couple of months ago, Matt and I talked about our kids. When we had Elena he congratulated me for "not having a boy." I told him that Marcus is our sane, careful child. I told him that the "boy" curse was not as bad as he predicted. Matt laughed and told me that Marcus is "100% boy."

 Matt was frickin' right. Over the last couple of months he has become a very energetic wrecking machine. As I was making dinner tonight, I found him scattering flour across the kitchen, playing with paint, trying to drink my beer, and standing on the table. That was like 15 minutes.

His favorite game is to run away when he knows you don't want him getting into something. This game is much more fun if you chase him screaming, like when he's too close to the road. I remembered a trick I learned about 15 years ago in a horse clinic: how to catch a skittish horse. His tips were to avoid eye contact, look at the ground, pet some other horses and nonchalantly circle around and wander up to the horse. This tactic worked for a solid two months but I think he's on to my game. I may have to resort to carrying corn around in my pocket.