A Letter to Niall on His Second Birthday

Dear Niall - You've just turned two, and based on you continual surprise at how much it hurts closing drawers on your fingers, memory is not yet your strong suit. As such, I thought it might be helpful to jot down some reflections on your first two years, before I likewise start closing drawers on my fingers.

You were born in Korea to American parents (your mom and I, actually) in a town called Gangnam, which was briefly noteworthy after a stylish fatman captivated the world by dancing like a cowboy angrily churning butter (YouTube it). Koreans are a superstitious lot, and one of their theories is the danger modern medicine poses to childbirth. As such, your mom had a rather rough go ushering you into the world, and frankly I was rather nervous during the whole laborious saga. But you seemed unfazed, somehow managing a smile almost immediately upon seeing your new world outside the womb. Smiling, sleeping, & suckling kept you constantly content, with nary a tear in those first days.

But even as Korea treated us well, we soon hit the road, heading back to the United States for a few months of paperwork while prepping for a new life in Spain. During those few months in America, you proved yourself an avid swimmer (even if you weren’t yet actually accomplished). Fortunately for our laundry needs, the local dry cleaner was (somewhat stereotypically) being run by Koreans. When your mom made sure to let them know about your honorable place of birth, they thereafter provided rush service free of charge. They assured us you were a golden child. (They treated your Canadian-born older brother like Kim Jong-Un.)

OK, so now we’re living in Spain and you’ve got a few key obsessions: — You’re not a big crier, but one thing that automatically sets you off is not having immediate access to Pellegrino on ice with a splash of lemon. It’s been a sippy-cup staple since shortly after our arrival. “Bubble” might actually have been your first word, which you use to both describe your aforementioned favorite beverage as well as any liquid at all really. Pelligrino, plus your affinity for olives and cheese, suggests you're settling into the Mediterranean lifestyle rather well.

— Piggy and Donkey. They’re the two stuffed animals you’ve taken to; you scan the crib every night to ensure their presence. But even as you carry these things everywhere and seem attached, I’ve also seen you throw them out of windows/off balconies/etc., while cackling maniacally.

— Sleeping & eating. I am probably supposed to say that I love you the same as Alden, but the reality is you are my favorite when it comes to sleeping and eating. You like to eat pretty much everything, and you’re always in the mood. And putting you to bed is as easy as taking you into your room and watching you try to climb into your crib. Then you’re usually good until the morning. (Don’t tell your brother I said this, but he’s currently 4 and is still the worst sleeper ever. Actually as I write this, it’s 3 AM, and I’m laying next to him, trying to coax him back to sleep. So thank you very much for not following in his footsteps.) — You also love watching Peppa Pig, perhaps because she reminds you of your aforementioned stuffed swine, or perhaps because she reminds you of bacon. Or maybe you just dig the accents. Either way it’s another current obsession.

— Shoes. We have a closet near the front door filled with shoes, and trying them all on keeps you endlessly entertained. You’ve got very strong opinions on shoes, actually. When it’s time to go somewhere, selecting footwear you find agreeable can take hours, if not days. You need to get a grip, to be honest. If this is still a thing next year we might need to talk to someone.

— You’ve recently taken to painting and other forms of “art.” One of your hobbies is coming up to my office, raiding my jar of writing implements, and creating Jackson Pollock-esque masterworks. It's impossible to complain about the distraction when you're proudly showing them off. Anti-Obsessions: — Getting dressed. Whenever possible, nudity is your preference, but unfortunately that’s not always socially acceptable. Getting you dressed is often a two-man operation (or rather, one man/one woman operation). You’re only two, but you’ve got the strength of 7 bucking broncos (I’ve done the math). Secretly I’m sometimes hoping you don’t decide to just beat my ass.

— Car seats, stroller straps, and all other manner or restricted movement. When we put you in the car seat, you’re like Houdini with your escape skills. I should be mad but usually I’m actually just impressed. I wish I could say you and Alden are BFFs but that would be a blatant lie. I’d describe your relationship more like a rivalry, with an occasional recognition that one another is a worthy adversary. Once you even hugged.

This rivalry also brings out your mischievous side. Last April we were vacationing in a city called Jalon; Alden was on the patio, hard at work assembling a tower with some blocks; you, walking by, nonchalantly removed one of the bottom blocks, then carried on, only to smile at the sound of the tower crashing in your wake and Alden’s disappointed cries. Cheeky.

We’ve now lived in Spain for a year and you speak un poquito espanol. "Aqui" is one of your go-to words -- rather, commands -- but you’ve also recently shown you can count to 10 (with a little help). It's only a matter of time before we're asking you to help translate.

But what really makes you, you, is that you're utterly uninterested in following anyone else. You have your own habits, tastes, and interests, and you could care less what anyone else thinks. You're only two years old, but you've already taught me so much about how to live. I love and wish you a very happy birthday.