Two is the Beginning of the End

"...One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother.  I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for [her mother] put her hand to her heart and cried, 'Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!' This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth [the girl] knew that she must grow up. 
You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end."  

- Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie

On Monday, Charity turned two.  May baby girl is no longer a baby, and yes, I am beginning to accept that fact that she must grow up...

  

And alas, we have officially entered the infamous "terrible twos"; though, admittedly, it seems as if Charity has already been in this phase for several months now.  She already is fully capable of being a complete tantruming mess when she chooses.  Nonetheless, she has suddenly become a big girl.  It is as if on her birthday something in her little sub-conscience told her that now it is time to grow up. Perhaps Peter Pan was right, 'You always know after you are two."  

She says her "pleases" and "thank yous", she holds my hand when we leave the house (and quite insists on it), she has an enormous vocabulary that grows daily, she is already learning her shapes and colors, and she knows she is suppose to have a plate and a fork when she sits down to eat (and if mom forgets to provide her with her grown up place setting, she is sure to let her know)!

What a change from a year ago:  When we gave her cake for her birthday last year, she was covered in frosting.  This year, her cake was on a plate, and she was using a utensil.  Even more impressive is that almost all of it made it into her mouth rather than onto her face!

But perhaps what took me aback the most was the other day when we were attempting to leave the house, and Silas was extremely upset about being in his car seat.  As John and I were scrambling around to get things together to get out the door, Silas was screaming, and Charity quietly made it her own prerogative to go over to his car seat and calm him down.  She knelt beside the seat and began rocking him gently.  Then she graciously offered him her toy bottle.  Her attempts to sooth her baby brother in fact worked--almost instantly--and I practically cried as John and I stood back and watched in surprise and delight while Charity cared for her baby brother. It was such a precious moment.  

She really seemed quite grown up.

  

  

...Next thing I know, I'll be handing her the keys to our 17-year old Kia.