Hugo turns two.

On the morning of your second birthday, we woke you with balloons and a song, and you looked at us like we were crazy. We ate pancakes and pizza and frozen yogurt, and we filled the day with trains of all kinds. You were in awe of all of it - the floating Mickey face, the sound of the engine as it rolled in, the many sprinkle-filled bites you were allowed.

How fitting that this day falls on Mother's Day this year. You're the boy who made me a mama, Hugo Henry. By some stroke of grace and good fortune, I get to lay claim to some small piece of your heart for a little while.

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