I'm pretty sure when we look back, the year of being two will be all about rock-throwing. Boy loves rocks. It's hereditary. (And yep, those are his babies he's packin')
We love a good rainstorm. It makes big puddles. Which you have to play in. And then you lose your clothes. And even when your lips turn purple, you ARE NOT HAPPY that your mama says you have to stop throwing rocks because it's time for a nap.
