Dear Joshy,

I can barely remember life without you.

You've come into your own in the last year and 

I am so thankful that God picked me to be your momma. 

You are the best story teller.

I don't know where you get it, but you tell the best stories.

Adventures to Mickey's house and mountain climbing and chopping down trees.

You crack yourself up.

And us too.

You adore your brother. 

You have to be near him and doing what he's doing.

If you go to long without him you get upset and say, 

"Where is my bwotha? Where is my bwooooooooooooootha?"

And promptly whack him over the head for no apparent reason.

You are hot and cold.

Super happy, can't stop smiling one minute,

mean, bossy face the next. 

Nothing in between.

You do not let anything get past you, little one. 

You will not be left behind.

And you are learning to hold your own.

You love Thomas and Mickey and toothbrushes and wrenches

and you are adamant about holding a minimum of four things in your hands at all times.

You ride tricycles and scooters and bikes and skateboards like nothing I've seen. 

And you have the best run. ever. 

You wake me up and with a, "Where ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you momma?!?"

You throw a fit when we can't find your spidey shirt.

You live to play with your daddy and brother. 

"Hey guys! I'm here. Come seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee me!"

Bike rides on daddy's bike are the closest thing to heaven for you. 

Hikes are a close second.

You adore your mimi and papa and grandma and grandpa. You got the best, buddy.

You are a sweet cuddler on your own terms. Mostly when you are tired. 

And you still scream like nobody's business whenever I put you to sleep.

I love watching you grow and become your own little man.

You complete our family. We adore you.
Happy birthday, Joshy Woshy.