Two is hard

 Two is hard.

Two is overwhelming.
Two is exhausting in a way you can’t really explain until you’re in it.

It’s saying no ten thousand times a day.
It’s the meltdowns on the floor over the wrong color cup.
It’s tiny feet running in the opposite direction when you’re already late.
It’s the testing, the pushing, the constant demand for independence.

But two isn’t terrible.

Two is hearing their little voice put full sentences together for the first time.
It’s sticky fingers wrapped around your neck in a hug that makes everything else fade.
It’s the belly laughs that echo through the house, the way they clap for themselves when they finally figure something out.
It’s watching their world expand and being lucky enough to be the safe place they always come back to.

Two is chaos.
Two is magic.
And two is gone before you even realize how much you’ll miss it.