Well, my boy, when you were close to coming, your dad intimated to me that he was hoping for another girl. Ana's long lashes and curls had long since enchanted him, and I don't know if he could imagine such an intense love being truly distinct from his first girl. When you burst into our world on August 2, 2005, we didn't know how much our lives would change because of you, and we didn't fully understand how we could find more love inside of us, and how that would grow exponentially. But Elliot, if there is one thing about you, it is that you have the power to bring tremendous amounts of joy, and to draw love out of those that you meet.
Right now, you're crazy for The Wiggles, especially the mind-numbing, completely catchy tape we have in the car. You'll complete the last word in each line, like a cloze exercise, and move your head back and forth in a dreamy way, or clap and shake excitedly to the music. Your favorite toys are music makers: your Christmas keyboard, horns, train whistles, drums...and of course, objects never intended to be musical instruments like forks and tables, tubes, and pencils. You draw the music out of the world; you make our lives like a song.
You love to hide, and your Christmas rocket is the best place for that. You loudly announce, "I hiding, " and disappear behind a stream of giggles. You can't resist peering out at us, and love the expectation of being found. Being found is a reward for us both! We get to hold you and laugh, and you enjoy the ruse.
One of our favorite games is "cut the pickle" when you put your two pointer fingers together, and we use our pointer to break the fingers' bond. Next comes "tickle, tickle." That just cracks us all up. Any fun will surely come with the request "again!" and we indulge you until you're done with that bit, and move on to the next adventure.
I've considered renting you out to Merry Maids, but the truth is, your clean-up ventures usually yield more mess than clean. You "wash the dishes" while I cook, use your personal vaccuum when we're buzzing the louder version around the house, sweep, use the dustpan, and "wipe" away the messes that you see and make. And of course, when piles of laundry are heaped in neat stacks, you quickly make them into the more exciting mound of clothes, just right for, what else? Hiding.
You work hard to keep up with the big sister. If she's climbing a tree, you want in. If she riding her bike (it's tall, and shiny, with streamers) you can't be bother with the push toy. Now you're telling us, "Turn" and fully expect that because you're becoming such a wordsmith, there's no reason why you can't, say, climb and cross the monkey bars.
It's a good thing she's always looking out for you. You two are really best friends. You disappear into her room, and I'll find you both having a noisy tea party, wearing cat ears and pink capes. She loves to read to you, and shares with you so readily. You are sad when she is off with Tita, or a friend, and look for her out the front window, calling her name. When she hears you in the morning, on the rare day that she is up first, she runs to your crib, and you both lie under the blanket, lots of giggles emanating from you. In her recent games of Princess, and I'm getting Married, you are the prince, or the husband. She talks about marrying you when she grows up.
You are speaking in such long sentences now. Over the Christmas break, you said, "I want to go with Morgan," and demanded, "I want more kisses!" You repeat everything, and enjoy learning the names of our world full of stuff. The Moon is one favorite. As is the Train.
You've become a Two Year Old. You want things for yourself. You want a turn. You want it now. You won't take no for an answer. This has yielded a whole new set of facial expressions that we've never seen. Namely, Angry and Sad. I know that you must have felt these things before, but honestly, you've mostly been Happy and Charming. We're excited to see you developing these other emotions too.
Hugs and Kisses. You're full of them, Elliot. And you give them freely to people. Several times a week, some mom in your classroom will share a sweet encounter of you seeking them out for a hug or a kiss, and sometimes, I find them happily held captive with you on their lap. There is a real power in your hugs, and I have often felt completely unburdened after an Elliot Special.
You are a piece of my soul. I cannot imagine a deeper love than the one I have for you and Ana. What I see between you and your dad brings me to tears when I let myself fully feel it. You are two sides of the same coin. It's no doubt that your sweet, gentle temperment comes from Kevin. You both have the same vigor balanced with a genuine acceptance of people as they are.
You have some rituals that solidify this bond. Sitting on the front stoop in the morning, you with sippy, he with Earl Grey. Nightly tickle-fests of at least 15 minutes long. Your belly laugh should be bottled and given to the depressed. (The best part of this one is the "delayed tickle" that Dad does, and your cracking up before even being touched). Dad shops incessantly for you (Gap online is his favorite). Sometimes the style and design of his purchases looks a lot like what he's wearing, and you look so alike, it must seem intentional. Dad gives you horsey-rides around the house whenever you say, "Ride." Who needs an amusement park? Dad is 24 hour rough-and-tumble fun.
He's often said to you, "I thought I wanted a little girl, El. How could I have known?" Your daddy would do anything for you. I have to admit, I am in awe of the bond I see between you. Your dad is so enamored of you that he can barely speak of you, and your newest high-jinx, or latest accomplishment without becoming dewy himself.
You LOVE to read, and ask for your favorite books by name. Right now they are "Goodnight Kisses," "Daddy Loves Me," and "Horton Hatches the Egg." That one is a little long, but you are just as happy to laugh with me about this enormous elephant parked on a nest in a tree.
You're growing and changing in leaps and bounds, and have changed so many of us in such a short time. Unlike most of your peers, your story includes an element few of us know at age 2: WORK. To hear the challenges stacked against you could be overwhelming: Cerebral Palsy (lovingly known as CP), unilateral deafness, low oral tone, ocular muscle deficits. But the power of your spirit trumps all these scary names, Elliot. You are a tremendous fighter. Your loving therapists are among your many friends.
Ms. Chris, your PT, spends twice her alloted time with you each week. Both your eyes light up when you see the other. And you immediately say to her "Play!" Yes, she makes your work tremendous fun, and could fill the world with her belief in you. During the summer, she meets you for therapy in the pool. She is an angel to us, and a playmate to you. Chris has shaped our parenting and calmed so many of my fears by simply saying, "Just look at him, Emmy."
And between your OT, Speech, Special Instructor, and mornings at Br1ght school, you've got a busy schedule. But nothing is going to keep you for what you want to do. Right now, you're making tremendous gains in using your left and right hand together. You're clapping along to music, and using your hands for fingerplays. You "bring lefty to the party" on command, now, and work hard to open and close it as the situation demands. Counting has helped in this regard, and we're now saying, "Two hands. You have two, Elliot." And you look at that hand, and watch it move, as if you were controlling a puppet, and then, as it obeys, you smile so proudly and cheer yourself. 
You're cheering so loudly. Can you hear us, Elliot? We're saying, YAY! Elliot. We love you Elliot. You amaze us, Elliot.
Thank you for being exactly who you are, Elliot. We love you. Being your Mama is such a gift.
