THIS is it.

Right now.

This IS it.

Two. Two is the age that I would want to redo if I could. Two is the perfect age to be alive.

The most upsetting thing that can happen when you're two is to be told "no" when you want to watch Dora the Annoying Explorer.

When you're two, it's gloriously fun to yell, "YELLOW CAR!" each and every time you spot a little ray of sunshine on wheels.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a perfectly acceptable, and preferred, lunch for someone who is two.

When you're two, a hug is just a hug, and you can give anyone an instant jolt of happiness by giving them one.

A productive evening for a two-year old is when you get to play with Play-Doh AND read six books.

If you're two, it's cute when you pronounce "big truck" with a "f" where the "tr" should be.

You can pee your pants when you're two, and no one thinks anything of it.

Singing your ABC's perfectly from beginning to end is just cause for a party when you're two.

Two is a spectacularly fun age to be alive.

But since I can't go back and be two again, I'm going to blow bubbles for someone who is, and I'm going to blow those bubbles as if it's my job. Which it is.

32 isn't all that bad either.