I mean, you’re doing so much. You’ve changed so much. Every second. You are a little boy. A little personality. A little ball of opinions. You have a wicked sense of humor- you like to pretend to put food in our mouths and then steal it back and laugh maniacally. Okay, not like a maniac. Just hysterically. You turn lights on and climb stairs with help and turn keys and hold out your thumb for the special thumb section of your mittens. You get down when music comes on. You have got moves and you like to shake what your maker gave you. You have a serious double chin. You climb on chairs and step stools and on top of tables. You take books off your bookshelf and “read” them to yourself. Or you tear the pages out. Depends on your mood and the construction of the book. You like to try and do your shoes yourself. You hug stuffed animals and love Elmo with all your heart and you are so tv-deprived you once quietly watched an entire episode of Mad Men with us. Your huge smile with five teeth sends me to the beyond. I know that children grow older and grow up. And therefore every single second we are snuggled cheek to cheek I pause and it’s the only thing that is happening to me. I will never kiss you enough. Your daddy tells you every day that you are his best boy and he doesn’t know if he could love you any more than he already does. And then we wake up the next day and guess what? We do. But we don’t always have to wake up in the morning. You have been waking up in the middle of the night lately and probably we accidentally created a new habit for you. You get to jump in our bed, cuddle, drink milk and watch QVC on tv with mommy. I didn’t know there was a UK version either. Your grandparents love you so much they light up when they see you, they miss you and they’re always buying you presents. You have the heart of Melissa at nursery. Our friends in London are ruined because they know you set the benchmark for little beings. They beg us to let them babysit. I am happy to share you. I am lucky to even get one little piece. I am so proud of you and all your longish blond hair and fat and still yelling in the grocery store for cheese puffs. I always let you have the cheese puffs. Because you’re a good boy and kind and you listen and you share and pat people when they need a pat. And you blow kisses.
And now you’re walking.
And wow that made me explode with pride and shouts and laughs and claps. And also cry. You still tottle like a drunken sailor but every hour I see you getting more confident and more sure and picking yourself back up and doing it even without an audience. Only when you’re tired now do you end a walk with a belly flop into one of us.
It makes me cry a little because you’re not my froggy-scooting crawling baby that needs to be carried everywhere anymore. It makes me cry a lot because I’m so happy.
I love you, moomaloo. Happy half birthday.