Really? My baby is 2

She can't be. She just can't be 2. She is my baby, although she looks less and less like a baby everyday. In the last year she has learned to walk, talk (sort of), antagonize her brother, pout, give you sad puppy dog eyes with the lower lip stuck out and yesterday she actually begged.

She has grown so much. Although she was 8lb 14oz when she was born she was always a little tiny thing after that. At 10 months we were shopping and someone asked me if she was 5 or 6 months old. She was always in the 10th percentile or under. She's not as tiny now and I'm interested to see what percentile she is in.

She is still very much a momma's girl, but she is becoming more independent everyday. She puts her own shoes away, helps set the table, and brushes her teeth in the morning (or rather sucks on the toothbrush). She has taken to helping me cook too.

Two years ago I was in tears because I was scheduled to be induced and the hospital was full and my birthday was a day away. (Okay, I was emotional, who wouldn't be?) I wanted her to be born before I turned 30 and I wanted her to have her own birthday. I had been told for over three weeks that I probably wouldn't make it to my next appointment, yet there I was every week until I said I was done. My birthday was in a week. When the hospital finally called to say there was a space, we couldn't get there fast enough and then we had to wait for a room. Littlebit has her own birthday by an hour and a half!

Happy Birthday Bean!