Your first year of life has been a whirlwind, much like your arrival. You came quickly, suddenly – so sudden it was a nurse who caught the first glimpse of you. The days and weeks and months since then have often felt like a mirage, like time was passing at a pace that blurred the details.
But there are many details. You grew fast and plump. You quickly became your brother’s biggest fan. Your living situation changed three times in your first three months. You sat up at six months. You learned to say mama, dada, ball and wow.
Right now, you nap much better than Bronson ever did, but you sleep much worse. You love to eat – nearly all things – but especially chocolate. You’re stubborn and determined, quickly revealing that you know what you want – most likely food, handheld walking or a ball. You don’t walk or crawl on your own, but you’re anything but inactive.
And most wonderfully, you are so incredibly sweet. You give the best hugs. EVER. You give them liberally, especially early in the morning. You’re patient while I’m helping your brother, content to be addressed last, so long as you’re included. You flash your smile to strangers, and it stops them dead in their tracks. Always. And after you have their attention you tease them with your glances. Clearly, you have your father’s charm. And you already know it.
You’re happy so much of the time. Happy if the music is on, and we’re all dancing. Happy if you have a snowboard guy to fly in the air or a plane or a cow. Happy to clap your hands. Happy to chase your brother and thrilled to finally know how to shut the door in his face. (You’re quickly learning to return all the “favors” he’s done for you over the last year.)
You have an acute sense of humor, quickly picking up on funny behavior of others. You love to make people laugh, and your deep belly giggle, so intense it’s nearly silent, is the most infectious thing I’ve ever seen or heard.
I can hardly believe you’re one, that as of today, I’m one of those crazy moms with a two-year-old and a one-year-old. Though I feel vindicating saying that because that’s how it’s always felt.
You, Oliver, are so dearly loved – by me, your dad, your brother and so many others. You are truly a gift, a joy to our lives. I feel so fortunate to have spent the past year with you, and I look forward to growing with you over many more.
Happy Birthday, my love.