Just Like Daddy

Everyone warned me about the "terrible twos." I was actually afraid of them. I was more afraid of them than I was of bringing home a newborn. I knew I could handle getting up every three hours to feed him, thus living my life in a constant state of exhaustion ... but could I survive an all-out, nuclear temper tantrum?

And then little man turned 2.

And in just a few short months, when little man celebrates his third birthday, I will be sad to see 2 go.

This year has been, quite possibly, the best year yet. Now that little man has learned the art of communication through words, I love my little conversations with him.

His excitement and curiosity never cease to amaze me. I love seeing the world through his eyes.

Little man's new phrase as of late is "just like daddy."

Everything - and I do mean everything - must now be done "just like daddy."

From sitting at the table eating dinner ...

"I take big bite ... just like daddy."

To making sure he gets his fill of milk for the day ...

"Daddy drink milk? I drink just like daddy."

Unfortunately, little man has also picked up some of daddy's bad habits. Daddy has a penchant for sitting on the couch at the end of the day, flopping off his shoes and then pulling his dirty socks off one by one and throwing them across the room. Why? I have no idea, I choose to blame his mom on this one.

It was a habit that - God love him - I was determined my husband was not to teach little man.

But ... alas ... little man is a sponge. A giant, mimicking, sponge.

And so there was little man the other night. Sitting on the couch after dinner.

"Mommy! Shoes OFF !"

{insert mommy glare here}

"Pleeeeze."

After finally receiving my requisite "please," I helped little man untie his double-knotted Nikes and put them on the floor.

Then, my once well-mannered little boy proceeded to pull his socks of one by one and throw them.

"Just like daddy!" Little man proclaimed, so proud of himself.

And there sat two pairs of socks on my living room floor - one a size 13 adult, the other a size 9.5 toddler.

And just as I opened my mouth to correct little man, and tell him that we don't throw our socks onto the floor (all the while cussing my husband in my mind), something stopped me.

It was little man's big blue eyes, gleaming with pride. And his little voice echoed "just like daddy" in my mind.

And I smiled.

As much as I hate the prospect of dirty socks on my living room floor, the moment wasn't about socks - it was about a little boy and his love for his daddy.

And so I held my tongue, knowing that this silence would also sentence me to a life of now picking up two pairs of socks from the living room floor each night.

But what can I say? It was cute and I may have had a moment of mommy weakness. But, I love the little man ... socks and all ... just like daddy.