Here we are at your third birthday. I can’t believe it. Only 365 yesterdays ago, I was writing to you on your second birthday, marveling at what a big boy you were becoming, still being able to count the words you were able to say, just getting introduced to your fits, and most importantly, relishing our last days with you as an only child. We have now left all those things in the dust.Obviously, the biggest change for you has been the introduction of Bennett into our family. Daddy and I were both nervous about the way you would accept your new sibling, but we shouldn’t have worried. You have been an amazing big brother to him. You have never gotten mad at him, never intentionally tried to hurt him, and have loved him unconditionally.
I say this because so far, he is the only member of the household to whom you have not said, “I don’t like you no more!” Even now that Bennett is mobile and is able to take the toys you are playing with, you will still go and get him a replacement toy as you retrieve your original toy. I know this happy nirvana of no sibling rivalry will not last forever, but it certainly is nice right now. He is your “Baby Brudder”, and he adores you just as much as you adore him.
Speaking of “Brudder”, this is as good a time as any to discuss your ever expanding vocabulary and your ever increasing ability to actually verbalize those words intelligibly. While your speech has most definitely been slow, you have now, for the most part, caught up to your peers. Your pronunciation still leaves much to the imagination for most, but we understand you pretty well, and, unless you are whining, everyone else seems to also. I am so happy to see that you have finally progressed in this category. I know school helped a lot with this.
It has been so much fun watching you grow and change over this past year. Your new brother, your new school, the fact that I am now staying home. I know all of these things have made lasting impressions on you. You have handled them all very well. There have, naturally, been a number of bumps in the road, but, like all things, these too shall pass. Your temper has certainly blossomed as you have gotten older. Daddy says you get this from me. Probably. You are also quite persistent with your demands. Your memory is like an elephants, and it is taking quite some time for you to realize that you aren’t going to get what you want just by screaming and whining about it. Someday you’ll come around. 
You’re already starting to make teeny, tiny steps in that direction – the one in which you realize that candy is for after a meal, not in place of it, and you may as well zip it and just go ahead and eat because the faster you do, the closer you are to your “yoyyipop.” It is definitely hard sometimes not to give in to your demands, and occasionally I have a weak moment, but luckily you have learned just to take your temper to your room and lat it work itself out there.
Reeves, you are so loved. At the end of each day, no matter how frustrating it’s been, Daddy and I always thank God for you and Bennett. We are so lucky to have both of you. You are amazing children. I can’t wait to see the new person you will become this year. Such a big boy, but you’ll always be my baby. I love you!
You call him Bubba, but I'm just chalking this up to your speech delay, and reassuring myself that in time, this will pass. Bennett is already enough of a bruiser. I don't think we need to go ahead and prejudice people by calling him Bubba. Your father and I generally tend to refer to things with whatever misnomer you have given them, but we are standing firm on this one. You'll just have to come up with something else to call him. But, you are so sweet with him. You have already gotten pretty protective of him and don't always like it when we let people you don't know hold him. 
Of course, thanks to your recently discovered deathly fear of dogs, you were more than happy to sacrifice your brother to Lolly's miniature daschund, Henry. The dog is about as big as my foot, but there you were, up on your toy box saying, "Puppy eat Ree-Ree!", while Henry did laps around and over Bennett.
We asked Dr. G about it at your 2 year appointment this summer. She said that, while behind others your age, she was not worried about it. She did say that, if by Christmas, we were still concerned, to call her, and we would reevaluate it. Of course, there have been days when I have convinceed myself that it was a big problem, and you were not progressing like you should. I would think about calling a speech therapist, but honestly, I was afraid of what we might find. I remember reading somewhere that if you go looking for a problem, you're certain to find one. This was how I felt about your talking. 
You were slow, but I knew you would start to get better. Then it was like a shell cracked, and you started saying intelligible words. Then you started piecing phrases together, then sentences. Suddenly, where once you were saying, "Bose's!" over and over, you were then saying, "Bose's house!" You have now graduated to full blown sentences. "Go Bose's house!" You ask all the time about D and Jodie and of course, D's big boat, which sounds more like "beer boat", but I have managed to ascertain that you also use "beer" when referring to dinosaurs, yellow diggers, cakes, and boobs, so I'm pretty sure you mean big. 
You have learned that high tide is when the water is in the marsh, and low tide is when you can see the mud. You also know that Daddy wears bow ties. You still say plenty of gobbledygook, but you're beginning to make more sense now. You are constantly pointing out things when we're in the car, and you love to sing songs. Every once in a while, I find myself longing for you to be quiet, but then I immediately stop myself because the only way you're going to learn to put all these sounds together is to keep doing what you're doing. I'm so proud of how far your talk has come these past 6 months. Although, if possible, I think I may praise you just a little too much because now, whenever you say a correct word, you beat me to the "Yay, Ree-Ree!" yourself.
You go MWF, and you love it. You have made so many new friends and done so many fun things. You adore your teachers, although their names are still a little to much for you to say. I hope that you'll be able to by the end of the year. You don't always want get in the car to go to school, but by the time we are pulling in, you point to the little sign and say, "Ree-Ree school." It makes me so happy to see you enjoy this. While I do love the quiet time Bennett and I have while you are at school, the highlight of each of those days is when you come running across the playground to me, usually showing me whichever digger you're playing with. You tell all your friends goodbye, then we run off to the car, and you babble to me all about your day.
You make your father and me very happy. There are days that, when you go running up to him when he gets home from work, I have seen tears come to his eyes. He tells me all the time how good it makes him feel when he scoops you up to your cries of, "Daddy! Daddy!" 
We love you so much, Boo. God couldn't have blessed us anymore than when He gave us you and Bennett to raise. You are growing up too fast, but we love watching every day and every minute of it.
The best was when we were in the country, and Daddy was across the gutter at the boat. You took off down the road to be with him. In the interest of your safety and to avoid your stepping on snakes, Grandy followed to get you in the golf cart. As soon as you realized what he was doing, you turned around, stuck your hand out and said, "No, no, no!" and kept walking. This happened about 3 or 4 times. We all just kept laughing harder and harder. It was like looking at that Chinese student facing off against the tanks in Tianamen Square, you know, without the evil communist overtones and humanitarian nightmares. Just you and your grandfather and a green golf cart. 
Gams loves to see you get a little attitude. I think this is because maybe I might have given her a sometimes, but rarely, slightly less than perfect attitude myself. But I think it probably only happened once or twice. I was really the practically-perfect child. I'm sure she would agree. Truth be told, you are pretty precious when your face transforms from Happy Reeves to Why Are You Trying To Ruin My Life Reeves. Now that you have mastered the leaving the ground with both feet, you usually throw in a few jumps along with the tantrum. Frustrating as they are, we know they are just a part of your growing up, and occasionally, they bring us a few giggles. I am hesitant to write this because I am sure there will be repercussions, but you generally keep the major breakdowns for the privacy of home, and we really appreciate that.
We have said our prayers together everynight for as long as I can remember. Normally, I think you are just spending that time waiting for me to put you into bed, but now I know you have been paying attention. You now put your hands together for prayers, and when we are finished, you repeat "Amen" after I say it. Of course, true to your Gullah accent, you have somehow made it so that Amen has 3, sometimes 4, syllables and I think there is a breath in between the first and second. Last Saturday night, Daddy, you, and I had dinner with Pops and Phil. (Gams was out globe-trotting). We sat outside, said blessing over our fried shrimp and fish, then those of us not an Almost Two Year Old started to eat. Not you. You wanted to say another blessing. We did. Then you wanted Daddy to say a blessing, then Pops, then Phil, then Mommy. It was too cute. We all folded our hands and said Amen after each blessing. You then proceeded to entertain us by pointing out each roach that ran by as we were enjoying our dinner. Yeah, thanks for that. That's what outdoor dining in Charleston is.
I think you must know you are turning two and growing up because just in the last month, you have moved from Brown Bear, Brown Bear as your favorite book to The Children's Beginner Bible. This is a book with actual text and stories. We have always had it sitting beside the chair, but previous attempts to read it were met with a less than enthusiastic reaction on your part. Then one day, you pointed to it. I picked it up and started reading it to you. You put your hands behind your head, lay back, and loved it. Everynight since then, we read a few more pages. 
Daddy and I are amazed. And it's a good thing for the whole family because while you are being introduced to these Bible stories we all grew up with, we are revisiting and remembering them. Now, if only we could do church as consistently as we do this.
Thank you, Amen, Ma'am round out your repertoire of intelligible words, and then there are the numerous words you have made up for things. They don't necessarily sound like the correct word, but you use them consistently, so we have learned. We still try to make you repeat the correct pronunciation. I must admit, I am a bit worried, but then I talk to so many people who say their children's vocabulary exploded after they turned two, or when they went to school, or some who didn't even really talk until they were three. And then, of course, there's Pops. Part of me thinks you'll start when Duece gets here, but since that will most likely coincide with your first day of school, I guess we'll never know the catalyst.
Although you may be Almost Two, you are certainly 100% all BOY. There isn't a day that goes by that you are not playing with your bats and balls or pointing out big diggers and cranes or building tracks for your trains. You seem to have a knack for sports. T-ball has come quite easily for you. 
You are perfectly content for what seems like hours to be putting the ball on the T and knocking it off, putting it on and knocking it off, and so on and so on. As a bit of an anal retentive type, I notice that your hands are way too close together when you swing. I have tried to show you how to hold the bat properly, but you continue to hold it your way, and this is when I have to remind myself that you are not even two, and it's pretty amazing that you're doing even what you're doing. For some reason, you prefer to hit a golf ball rather than your baseball off the T. We're not sure why this is, but one night as we were all playing in the backyard, you made a little piece of my heart tingle with pride. Your father and I noticed that each time you would put the golfball on top of the T, you sould spin it ever so carefully so that the writing would be at the very top. 
Your father couldn't understand this, but he knew it must be something you have gotten from me. It is. Each time I would shoot a free throw in basketball, I would dribble three times, then spin the ball in my hands so that I was holding it exactly the same way each time. Same thing with serving in tennis. Maybe it's anal retention, or maybe it's just one of those silly sports superstitions, but whatever it is, you've got it, so I'm sure as soon as you win your first game, we'll all have to wear the same outfits we were wearing at that game. And I can't wait.
I think you were almost as excited about his medal as he was.
Your doctor says that her children didn't really start talking till they were two, and you are, after all, only Almost Two. And, given the track record of your Pops, you've got another four years to go before we need to get worried. We do find it amusing that one of the words you say quite well is "boat", and while your lack of speech to this point may be attributable to your Pops, your pronunciation of the few words you have mastered is certainly due to the time you spend around your Grandy. From your mouth, "boat" has a minimum of two, and sometimes three, syllables. Clearly, you are carrying on the Reeves Bair, Geechee accent tradition. Personally, I think that's great. Television has zapped too many local accents, so carry on with your thick tongue!
I suppose I should mention the white elephant in this post, the thing that is about to rock your world - your new sibling who will be arriving at the end of the summer, but I'm not really ready for that yet. This is your post, your last Almost Two post, and suffice it to say that you are very aware that the baby is in my tummy, but I think we could have trained you to say that there is a pot roast in my tummy, and you will still be just as surprised when we come home from the hospital with this little bundle of joy. You're just a little too young to grasp what's getting ready to happen, and that's OK with us because we know when the time comes, you're going to be a wonderful big brother. 
You absolutely made my Mother's Day yesterday - which is, after all, your sole responsibility on that day. After church, Daddy went out to be with his mother, and you and Gams and I went to Big Laura and Rod's. You put on quite the show and loved on everyone there. 
Lucky for you, Reagan had come to town, and you got to sit in her lap as you ate your lunch. You quite impressed her with your strawberry eating ability. You only ate one cap, but you were sure to wipe your hands after each bite. You particularly enjoyed that I let you play in the rain as much as you wanted.
Of course, as a true boy, you found the one spot of dirt in the yard and tried to spend as much time there as possile. Daddy really needs to polish your saddle-oxs. As wonderful as you were to me all day and all night, I think it was your Uncle Andy whose day/week/month you truly made. After playing your heart out with anyone who would be in the yard with you, I brought you in, changed you into dry clothes, and put you on Andy's lap on the sofa. 
You looked at him, put your head on his shoulder, and fell sound asleep for an hour and a half. It isn't often that you slow down enough to snuggle on people, and the fact that you did this to him made him one of the happiest people yesterday.
I suppose I've been a bit long winded on this post, but I think this is just a preview of what's to come this next month. Can we just make it go on a little longer? Can we hold off on turning two for a few more months. You are such a blessing to your father and me. You have changed our lives in ways you will never begin to imagine until you have a child of your own. We are fascinated daily by you and find ourselves happy just to be watching you do the things you do. We love you more and more each day, Monkey Man.
In these two months since my last update, you have celebrated your second Christmas and New Year's. You have welcomed a new cousin and a new friend. You have fallen out of your crib and climbed a ladder all by yourself (with my supervision, of course.) 
You can, with enough time and patience, put on your socks all by yourself. You can also, as we learned Sunday morning, remove all your clothing (pajamas) and your diaper. Luckily for us, everything was clean, and there were no accidents during the time of your unbeknownst-to-us nakedness. I think this may have been your favorite morning ever as you were bouncing up and down and running back and forth in your crib, and once you noticed us watching, the show only increased. I have been surprised that you have not disrobed in the mornings since then, but maybe this is like the climbing out of the crib thing - you are satisfied just knowing you can do it.
Naturally, you wash your hair. You do that in your bath as well. That wasn't the Aha Moment. It was when you picked up a thing of shower gel, in a container shaped similarly to a stick of deodorant, and started rubbing it in your armpits. 
I guess it's time for us to stop flicking matches onto the carpet and running with scissors. You're watching!
We were going to take you to your first basketball game on Monday, but you apparently decided that a nap was not necessary that day, so when you fell asleep in the car on your way home from the country, Daddy and I decided we would have to attempt it another day. We're hoping to be able to watch the Dogs beat Furman on Saturday.
The church nursery continues to be your own personal torture chamber, so Daddy and I have been taking turns going solo to early church. The last time we tried to go to 10:30, they wouldn't even let me out of the nursery. You apparently already have a reputation. However, on the babysitter at home front, I am happy to report that we have had two great Saturday nights in a row. You are loving Janine now, and that is so good, because I was almost convinced that you had scared her off last month. You still are not happy when you see her walk in, but it is not long now before you and she are playing and reading, and you are, if not happy, at least content to see us leave. She is truly a godsend. 
You continue to bewitch your father and me. I can't believe it's possible, but we love you a little more each day. You give us big drooly kisses and love to bump foreheads. You have brought so much joy to our lives. We love you, ReeRee! 
I suppose with all the excitement of turning a year and a half old, you just couldn't contain yourself and started screaming at 4:00 this morning. Unfortunately, it didn't really sound like an out of control toddler rager, but more like the scared wailing of a child who just woke up from a nightmare. It could also have been the fact that you were running a fever pretty much all of yesterday. Whatever the reason, your father gave in and brought you in bed with us. Much as we don't want to do it, it is hard to deny a child we know is sick. OK, truth be told, much as we know we shouldn't do it because we don't want you to get used to crying and being able to get in bed with us, secretly, we both love to snuggle with you between us. In the recesses of our minds, we know it won't be like this forever, and if, once in a while, you can only be consoled by being our little snugglebug for an hour or so, we happily concede. 
You must have some sort of sixth sense for the timing of trains because, much to your delight and your father's and my dismay, a train came by at 5:00. You shot up like a rocket, cheering and clapping and chanting, "Hoo, hoo!" There was no containing you, so we all rushed to the toy chest by the window (your HooHoo watching post), and marvelled as it went by. And, of course, it was the LONGEST TRAIN EVER! Daddy gave in after a few minutes and headed back to bed. Once the train finally passed, you and I headed to your room, a little song, a little rocking, and two froggies, and you were back down for the count.
It's amazing to watch you everyday. You are so inquisitive and curious. You are always interested in finding out (on a toddler level) how things work. This can be good (toys, puzzles, shoes), but this can also be dangerous (electric cords and plugs, scissors). The good news is that you are definitely learning the meaning of "No" and respond appropriately most times. When we tell you something is dangerous or hot, you know not to touch it. I think this stems from the time you wanted to touch a lightbulb in your room, and despite my repeated protests that it was HOT,HOT, the only way for you to find out was to learn the hard way. I was sad that it hurt you a little, but so happy and thankful for the lesson it taught you. I suppose that is the fine line we will always walk as parents - knowing when to protect you and balancing that with allowing you to make your own mistakes so that you can learn from them.
We are in the throes of celebrating your second Christmas this year. Last year your milestone was sitting up on Christmas Eve morning. We wonder what this year will bring - perhaps a continuous string of intelligible words? You appear to be taking after Pops on the verbal front. Apparently, he did not speak until he was 6. Now, it's not that you're not speaking. You are quite verbal, never at a loss for noise. It's just that unless the word starts with a B or is ta-ta (thank you), it doesn't really come out as a word. Gams says that Mimi and your Pops had a language all their own during those early years that only they could understand. I don't know if that code speak is necessarily limited to them. I think all mothers and their children are intrinsicly programmed to understand each other's noises.
Your "ba-ba-ba" is distinctively different when pointing out a boat or a bubble or a bath or a balloon. I know this. Just like you know that my "ah-ah-ah" means one thing when you are reaching for the Christmas ornaments with a destructive look in your eyes as opposed to when you when you are trying to put a puzzle piece back into the wrong spot. It's the same noise, but it has so many different meanings. Honestly, I have no doubt that you will start talking any day now, and that kind of saddens me. Not that I want to stunt your growth or development, mind you, but just knowing that once you start talking, you won't ever be able not to talk again. Just like crawling or walking or eating grown up food. With each milestone, you are turning more and more into the person you will become, while simultaneously inching further and further away from the baby you were just 18 short months ago. But trust me, if you do turn out like your grandfather, and the talking thing doesn't take off till you're 6, count yourself lucky and hope that there are many more years of taking after Pops because he is a great man, and your father and I would be very happy.
Reeves, I've said it many times before, and I know I'll be saying it for the rest of my life, please know what a blessing you are to your father and me. Some nights we try to remember what life was like before you, and we have a hard time doing it. We treasure the nights and weekends when we are home with you, with nothing on our calendars but watching you and taking you places and playing with you. It's amazing how much happiness you have brought into our lives. Thank you for all you have done for us. We will spend the rest of our lives paying you back.