He's still cute.

I know I haven't posted about Calvin much lately. But don't you worry: He's still cute. And growing. And two.

Oh, heavens, is he ever two.

I love this age. It's challenging on so many levels (mentally, since he can argue with me and asks questions constantly; physically since his tantrums often require me to pick him up and haul him off to the timeout chair; and emotionally, because my love for him becomes more complex and overwhelming every day), but it's really so much fun.

The questions are cute. The faces are cute. The imaginary play is cute. And he loves us right now, so much. All day long there are choruses of "Play a football game wit me, Daddy? Make a track wit me, Mama? I come too, Daddy! I bake witchu, Mama!"

He's so independent, so spirited, so loving. There's no shortage of smiles, giggles, or kisses. There's also no shortage of defiance, disobedience, or tantrums. But, as with every phase, the good seems to outweigh the bad. And the bad really isn't that bad. I don't know whether he's getting more predictable or I'm just getting used to having no control, but these days I feel much more capable of handling whatever he throws my way.

Literally and figuratively.