On the 4th of July, Boy-o turned 22 months old.

 Now, for those of you that enjoy the ciphering, that means he is almost 2 years old.

Two. Years. Old. 

This is a joyous thing.  Boy-o was born with some severe heart problems, requiring a helicopter transfer to Iowa City when he was just a few hours old, and plenty of tests since.  So the fact that he is still here and healthy, this is a wonderful thing. So, yeah, grateful, yadda yadda yadda.

 When Queenie was young, we believed she was such a tomboy, so crazy and spirited, that she was unaffected by the faux limitations or constrictions of her sex.  That there was no difference between her and the boys her age.  I do recall a somewhat amused/haunted look in those boys’ mothers’ eyes, but Oh! They just don’t know Queenie… 

Yeah. I’d like to publicly apologize for thinking that we knew what the hell we were talking about back then.

Because Boy-o is insane.  He is wild.  He scares the monkeys at the zoo.  He convinces childless friends not to have children.  His primal screams strip the varnish from the trompe l’oi of civilization.  The sonic boom of his roar killed the dinosaurs.

 Don’t let his dimples, curly baby hair, and Jack Nicholson-esque eyebrow fool you.  Oh, he’ll kiss babies sweetly on the head.  He’ll wave and say “e-llo” as you leave.  He’ll eat your cooking with gusto.

And as soon as your back is turned, he’ll be spitting spaghetti in your fish tank and peeing on your pillow.

We braved a dinner out Saturday night, at a place called Old Chicago.  I understand there are a number of them scattered about the country.  It’s a nice enough place, nothing fancy, lots to tempt the beer connoisseur.  We haven’t attempted eating out much since Bon Bon was born 2 1/2 months ago.  Not that Bon Bon is a problem - he’s the easiest baby ever.  But he does occasionally require holding, and that leaves us one man down for forcing the other two to eat like humans.  But there were 3 extra adults on hand, so we were idiots brave. 

So, after throwing three crayons, several papers, a toy car, pre-chewed pizza and nachos, and a napkin at the next table, somehow I was shocked when our waitress smiled. “Oh I know what age this guy is! I have a friend with a two year old…”