For the past few weeks we’ve been playing a game with George, where he tells us that he is either two or six and then we tickle him and strictly forbid him from growing up. As it turns out, the game is still funny but our parental authority seems to have failed us in preventing the passage of time. Without any doubt, our little boy is two. He will occasionally bust out a sentence, a beat-box, or laugh at this own “toot”. Drums, hammers, and baseball have all made the list of awesome things that can and will always be a good idea at any time of the day or night. He is a wonderful big brother, though I suspect that he and Solomon are already plotting mischief together at night. He is kind, caring, courageous, and inquisitive and I couldn’t be more proud. Happy birthday George, you are very loved.