Strong-willed child

I have been absent (totally) from the blogging world for a couple weeks (sorry there wasn't any warning). I won't bore you with the details but Joshua's still not home and the boy is being 2, very 2. Which, I have to remind myself, is a good thing. He's painfully independent (painful for me because he's discovered one of the only two areas in life that children can control-what goes into his body...thankfully he has yet to discover he controls what comes out). He's made mealtime difficult. He's a stubborn child (no idea where he got that from...*sarcasm literally dripping off those words). Every meal, he screams for chips and crackers...that's his idea of junk food and although, it's not terrible, it's not exactly a well-balanced meal. He's even gone on hunger strikes. He went for two and half days without really eating much of anything because all I offered was healthy food. One of the only things getting me through right now is my own stubborn obsession with winning. I will not be beat by a two year old. Besides, I know, eventually he'll break down, eat some healthy food and like it. I've seen it happen and when it does, angels in heaven rejoice...you might be thinking I'm exaggerating but that's probably because you've never had a strong-willed child. I celebrate who my son is and I'm glad that he knows what he wants and that he's creative...like when he pulled the kitchen drawers out like steps to climb onto the counter so he could get to the goodie cabinet. I like that he's not afraid to speak his mind...like every day when he's angry with me because I tell him he's not allowed to give his food to the dog. I like that he loves to be read to...even if it means I have to read the same book ten times in a day and go to bed with "Oh The Thinks You Can Think" repeating itself over and over in my head. I love that he's passionate about the things he's not supposed to do or have because he's equally passionate about positive things too...like when he laughs because we're jumping on his trampoline together or when I'm sitting on the floor and he rushes me like a football linebacker with his arms spread wide wanting nothing more than to hug me. I have a two year old, it's a good thing.