That first year

You turned one yesterday. I'm fairly certain you didn't even know it. We had a small gathering at your house. All your grandparents, both your uncles and your Mom and Dad were there. You looked around at everyone, as if you couldn't believe we were all in the same place at one time. You have another party on Saturday. It's a big week for you.

Oh to be like you and have no sense of the time passing. When you wake up, you look around for a couple of minutes then a smile breaks across your face. It's as if you're thinking, "Alright! Time to play some more!" I can't figure out if every day is a new day for you, or if every day is just a continuation of one long play party occasionally interrupted by naps and eating.

You're the happiest baby I've ever been around. Sometimes I lift you high above my head, lower you down quickly, then lift you up again. Over and over. This seems to be one of your favorite things right now. Your mouth is wide open and it looks like you want to laugh, but the sensation of rising and falling is just too much and you can't stand it. When I finally stop and hold you still, you let out a giggle. It's the most wonderful sound I've ever heard.

Sometimes as you're laughing or playing or otherwise entertaining us, I'll look over at your mother as she watches you. I've known her for twenty-eight years, yet there is a look on her face, a gleam in her eyes, an utter joy to her being that I have never seen before. We are all in love with you.

Just because you're happy doesn't mean you don't have some adorable little intricacies. Your mother claims that you pull all the toilet paper off the roll when she isn't looking, but I find that hard to believe. She also says you've dropped three remotes into the toilet. I say, at least you're consistent and they always know where to find them.

When I think that it has been a year since you arrived, it blows my mind. I thought the time went fast before, but this year has gone at near light speed.

Just the other day, you were crawling. Well, you sort of scooted at first. Then crawled. Then held onto our hands as you learned to walk. You were walking before you were eleven months old. I am thankful every day that you are healthy and seem to be growing and learning as you should.

You've gone from falling asleep in my arms to walking up to me, tugging on my pants and lifting your arms so that I will pick you up--which by the way is my current favorite thing.

And while I know you probably won't remember anything about it, I will never forget that first year.



"Thank God for kids, there's magic for awhile. A special kind of sunshine in a smile. Did you ever stop to think or wonder why the nearest thing to heaven is a child?"