The Day is not until tomorrow, but as far as he's concerned, he's already Two. And being Two is good. It's a number, and he likes numbers, though he generally starts counting at three. Freeforfisix.
The thing everybody says about him is, "Wow, he really can talk, can't he?" Why yes, he can. Looking back at posts from a year ago, I realized he's talking even better than D1 was at this age, and she was no laggard. No doubt it's from always having someone to talk to.
For all that talking, though, he's also quite a loner. I don't panic when I realize he's been quiet for fifteen minutes, because nine times out of ten it just means he's busy reading a book or building with Duplos or lining up his cars. Sometimes I say it's a pity he wasn't younger in the family, because it's so easy to keep him busy, but then perhaps he would have gotten lost in the shuffle.
Like all parents do and like I vowed we wouldn't, we draw and redraw the outlines of the ducklings' personalities. D1 tends to get categorized as the one like DOB: the Grand Marshall, analyzing events, keeping track of contingencies, ordering everyone else around. D2 is, admittedly, more like me. He can recite any piece of information that has passed by him, but he'll wander around the house in despair because he can't find the toy he's holding in his hand. He's smart and analytical and spacey and a little too charming for his own good.
He likes to sing songs and read about Mike Mulligan and Christopher Robin and drive Matchbox cars. He was kind of a tough baby, but he's an easy toddler. (The key is, now he can put most of the food in by himself.) I don't think there will be anything terrible about having him be two.
The birthday plan is to visit the fire engine museum and make him a cake shaped like a train. And hold him a little bit extra, because he won't be small and cuddly much longer.