They don't stay two...it's true.

My fiance says that people who don't have children often satisfy parental instincts by pouring all that energy into their pets. Many people think of pets as family members. I sure did. When my first marriage dissolved, one of the hardest things about the break-up was the loss of my dog. Once I'd dealt with the feelings of inadequacy, the thought that I'd done something wrong, the total overhaul of the patterns of day to day life, the loss of contact with her family etc, once I'd gotten through all that, there was still this gaping hole in my life where Lois, our beagle, used to live. That hung on longer than anything else.

My fiance has a two year old girl, Willow, and so now I have a two year old girl, Willow. (I'm lucky, I fell in love with to girls and it's totally acceptable!) Willow is amazingly beautiful and smart. Needless to say, my affection for her has more than filled the void left by my pet-child, the beagle.

One of the coolest things, so far, is watching her develop, learn new things and incorporate experiences into her life. That's one of the big differences between a child and a pet. Children develop. See, we, humans, have this thing called intelligence, meaning we learn stuff. While Lois is still limited to her three track mind - feed me! lick your face! go outside! - Willow actually has new words and phrases in her vocabulary that she didn't have a week ago. So with Willow we don't have to do that thing pet owners do where they create a cartoon voice and dialogue for their pets. Kids provide their own dialogue.

For example, now when we get in the car to go to school she doesn't just say, "Bowie!" She says, "I want listen to Bowie!" (Yes, that's David Bowie.)

Or, when she and I were playing, tickling and peak-a-boo, like you do, she accidentally scratched my eye. When I reacted she leaned in, whispered, "Oh baby," and kissed my eye. I was a little weirded out. But it's behavior she'd observed in Kristina and myself, we call each other, "baby," and Willow picked up on it. A few days later I bumped my head putting her in her car seat. She tilted her head to once said and asked, "You ok, baby?"

Another time she overheard Kristina and me discussing diaper rash and echoed me saying that she, Willow, needed to put "medicine on her junk."

Language is fun.

Here's a poem I wrote for her.

My life smells of talcum powder
And stale cheerios
Yesterday, Willow told me for the first time,
unsolicited
that she loves me.
—Flint, 5/09