Two two cachoo

Ethan turned 2 on Friday. Last year I posted a photo from each month of his life, but this year so much changed I feel overwhelmed trying to keep track.

On his birthday, my parents took us to brunch, where he recieved free strawberry shortcake. Later, at Lowe's, a lady gave him a quarter. Neither of these niceties did anything to assuage the angst of being 2.

Let me show you what I mean. This is how Ethan sings the birthday song:

Bird-day to tyoo!

Bird-day to tyoo!

Too too too too too,

No no no no!

And that, in a nutshell, is our life at the moment. Well, that's not entirely our life. We've also watched Cars, which Ethan refers to as Trucks (actually, Cucks, but we try to avoid that reality) approximately 4,952 times this past week. He's developed two marked and inexplicable fears: Loud noises—such as the THX intro to Cars, unfortunately—and falling while having his diaper changed. So now we change his diaper on the couch, while he's surrounded by po's (pillows).

He has become a rather helpful chap, insisting Me halp yoo while we perform various tasks, such as using power tools and chopping vegetables with sharp knives. Although his specialty is cleaning the tops of be-fingerprinted dvds with his shirttails, proclaiming Keen! as he does it.

The sun, when especially intrustive, is accosted for being to bright (Nooooo! Bight! Nooo! [heavenward finger waggle]), but the moon's luminescence is nothing short of magical (Oooooh wooooow mooyn bight! Mooyn! Mooyn! Mooyn! Biiiight!).

We've also acquired a few new pals: actual-size replicas of Woody and Buzz Lightyear, alternatively and affectionately known as Wooey and Buuuz. Oh, and there's the three-foot-tall plush frog holding a stuffed heart he dragged around Wal-Mart the day after he pooped out that Allen wrench. We just couldn't say no.