Two Much
He was due to turn two years old the next day. Two. The year deemed “terrible” by experts, the year toddlers develop their personalities independent of their parents.
If the experts are correct, then he is “two” much.
Personality? In aces. More charm than most adults. He can get his way. This is the same little boy, at one and three quarters years old, who attempted to show me how to dance to the latest Usher song … all while nestled in his car seat. He called me by my nick name, “NaNa” (which, by the way, is two much), summoning me to follow his lead, bopping my head to almost spastic degrees, nodding in agreement with Usher’s wish to “Throwback.”
Of course, I obliged. How could I not?
He’s two much, dammit.
