I'm way overdue for this post, but that's what happens when your life is being run by a two year old. They're terrible.
Or so I've heard. Mine is amazing. You haven't lived until Edie has informed you via song that it's all about the bass, 'bout the bass, no "twebble".
Her "Mama Mia" that elegantly segues into counting from 5 to 10 is sick, as well. The girl has jams far beyond her two years.
Happy Belated Birthday, little girl! I alternately can't believe it's been two years since I was huddled under a blanket, shivering, on the day that you came home from the hospital suffering from post-partum Daddy flu, or that it's ONLY been two years since that day, given that the recent flights with you to and from Florida felt like five years each.
However the math works out, know that you're one of the three best things that have ever happened to me and that I can't wait to hear what songs you're going to sing next.
Hopefully they're about something other than your butt.