Happy 2nd Birthday, Mila (Better Late Than Never)

Dear Mila,

This is quite possibly the most belated of belated birthday letters, and for that I apologize. Except, not really, because I haven't forgotten about that thing where you started life by causing five days of false labor.

Yes, it's your fault.

While your sister did everything she could to cause the least amount of trouble possible, you were all DID SOMEONE SAY TROUBLE? WHERE?

At least you're consistent.

You're a consistent little ball of sunshine who carries trouble in her front pocket and joy in her heart. Sometimes you confuse trouble with joy and sometimes you mix them together. When you mix them together, the result is almost always belly laughs dipped in perfection. I've caught you rolling around the floor, crippled by your own hilarity, more than once. There's almost always some sort of trickery involved. If there's not? Then Alexis is involved.

You and Alexis. You're best friends. Actually, you're something more than best friends. I hope it's always that way.

By the time Alexis was two, I had a pretty good read on who she would be when she was older. I predicted a dance lover who kept her nose buried in books. There's more that I knew, but I'll skip to the chase - I was right.

Mila, you're a different story. While I will bet that you too will keep your nose buried in books and I'm positive you're going to be a tumbling fool like the other one, I'm not sure what else you will be. I suspect that if I were to list a few thoughts, you would purposely go out of your way to prove me wrong. You're the defier of expectations and the queen of causing confusion. I could tell a million stories about all of the ways you've done a 180 for seemingly no reason.

For as much as you prefer to be unpredictable, there are a few things that are guaranteed. You will absolutely vocalize your opinion about everything. If you want to wear a jacket when it's 80 degrees outside, you're going to wear a jacket when it's 80 degrees outside. Assertive and vocal and opinionated, HOO BOY. You're eating junk food for dinner, the top of the table is so where you're supposed to sit, and forget trying to tell you to do anything that you weren't already planning to do.

You're quickly mastering that "I'm not doing it" thing. You graduated from just plain refusing to another level of trickery last week. I repeatedly told you to sit down in the cart at Target and you repeatedly told me where I could shove my concern for your safety. After going back and forth numerous times, you turned to me and flatly said, "Mommy bad."

Not you. You aren't bad for refusing to sit down. I'm bad for bossing you around.

I'd say "good luck with that" but I think the real people who are going to need a little luck are all of the rest of us.

Mila, you're beautiful and amazing and all sorts of unpossible. Melt it all together and you end up with the exact person we were missing from our lives.

Thanks for joining us.

Love,

Your Biggest Minion

(I just now noticed that Alexis was wearing a Minion tank top the second time she hung out with Mila. I'm blaming that for all of the one-eyed yellow creatures all over the house these days.)