Little Bear,
Tomorrow you turn one. One. I see pictures of you now and think who is that little boy? In my arms, you fit the same, as perfectly as you did three months ago, six months ago, nine months ago. You have become so naturally a part of me I'm surprised to find you've grown at all.
One year ago, when our doctor set you tiny and new on my chest you whispered to me that you were home. I pulled the warmed blanket up over you, you exhaled, nestled in and fell asleep. Amid the noise and lights there was just you and I and so much peace.
This last year has been the very best of all years. I am overwhelmed, incapacitated sometimes, by how blessed I am. That I should get to be mama to you and your sister is the greatest gift this beautiful world could ever give. I am forever grateful to you and the boundless joy you bring.
Your affection consumes me. You hug and cuddle and every once in a while lay perfectly still in my lap. Deep in thought it seems. I hold my breath in the hope that maybe, just this once, time will stop. You have long be a sweet little kisser. You make the most perfect up-tilted lips pursed kissing face, wandering about in search of recipients for your tiny presents.
You as handsome as handsome comes. Each day I am stopped, taken aback, by your beauty. Your blue eyes sparkle like none I've ever seen. Outside, against the clear sky they change and grow, deep and wide, taking pieces of it into them.
You like to move. You took your first five steps on the day you turned ten months. You held your arms high in the air and your little face beamed with such pride as you followed each tentative step with another. Two short months later it is as if you have never known anything else.
You love to be chased. You squeal and giggle as you only half-try to evade capture. You are busy trying to figure out how to jump and bounce. You study your sister when she leaps into the air again and again, bouncing amid the pillows and blankets on her bed. You bend your knees and will yourself upwards, so close to leaving the ground and knowing the childhood delight of sailing into the air.
You can climb and have done so with ease for some time (often to our great gasps). Each day you signal for us to pull the cushion off the living room chair so that you can crawl up and peek out the window at the birds and trees and Bella, the puppy down the street. You can climb up the stairs, up into the stroller and halfway up into your highchair. You are determined and agile and have such mastery of your small strong arms and legs.
Your first word was hot. When the kettle whistles you turn to us in hushed tones and say hot. You can say hat and hi and wow and fish and yes. You mama and dada all day long. I'm pretty sure you understand the meanings of both but prefer them as chorus and chatter.
You have ten teeth and have worked so hard for all of them. Your poor little gums swell for weeks before each new arrival but you endure. We will all be so happy when ten is twenty and there are no more on their way.
You love your bath, the kitties, grapes, being held, eating rocks and crayons, making faces, fridge magnets, playing the harmonica, pulling apart Lego, opening and closing doors, and sitting in baskets.
You love to be outside. When the days were warm you learned how to push open the screen door and step down onto the balcony. You are happy in the backyard, at the park, and in the stroller. I hope, with all the busyness and inside to-do nonsense of our lives some days/weeks/months, this love stays with you.
Charlie, this year has been a whirlwind of the very best kind. You have brought into our lives a love like we have never known and that we cannot imagine ourselves without. You are kind, inquisitive, calm, loving, daring, determined, and sociable. Happiest of birthdays little bear. I love you.
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