The Biz turned two this past Sunday. I can hardly believe it.
The Biz is my youngest son. He came two weeks early and allowed me, much to my delight, to have one of only two turkeyless Thanksgivings in my 34 years of life. (I was studying in London for the other.)
The Biz is a metamorphosis of G’s original nickname assigned to his new brother, Little Buddy. Little Buddy turned into L.B. L.B. turned into L Bizzy in the Hizzy (Snoop Dogg style) and, well, you get the picture.
What’s funny about Biz is that he’s hard to describe. At a mere two years old, he has a huge personality. I often tell people that he’s nuts and that they have to experience him to understand. He’d make for a great reality show.
In a past post, I mentioned that he wasn’t quite as verbal as G was at the same age. I was wrong. He talks my ear off. And he says things that you don’t expect a two year old to say. (Today, he asked me for scissors so that he could open a sealed box.)
Both G and Biz are energetic, talkative, fun and smart. I’m quite certain they’ll both be leaders someday. But, G is my little thinker and Biz is my little doer.
Biz walks with a purpose and acts like he owns the place (wherever he may be). He tells stories and sings songs that he makes up. He attempts to put other people, including me, in timeouts. He’s almost potty-trained and uses the excuse of having to poop to get out of a long car trip or being in his own timeout. He tells me to go away when he wants to do something that he knows he’ll get in trouble for.
Biz will do anything for a laugh and has his own comedy bits. While in Massachusetts for Thanksgiving, he called my sister Sara (not her name) just for the reaction. When I ask him what he did in daycare, he tells me he got in trouble. He’s been telling everyone that he is 5 and his brother is 2. Often, he’ll close his bits by saying “funny.”
Biz is outgoing and manipulative (just ask daycare). He loves pizza, hates wind and adores his big brother, G.
He is, without a doubt, the Biz.
