Today, you are one year old.
You still won’t eat solid foods. Sometimes, you pick up a cheerio, grasping it carefully between your thumb and forefinger. You gingerly hold it on the tip of your tongue for a moment or two, and then you gleefully throw it on the floor. And repeat.
Let’s be honest about this: you’re going to need to eat some solid food eventually. But for now, I love this because it is so typically you.
You approach things tentatively, observing and contemplating for quite awhile, but once you’ve made up your mind you go for it and do not stop. I could learn something from you in that regard: at some point, you simply decide there’s no use being cautious anymore.
When I was pregnant with you, everyone loved to say, “You won’t even remember what life was like before the baby!” I’ve found that’s not exactly true. I do remember what life was like before you were here. Every once in awhile, your dad and I will reminisce about the days we spent watching Friends on the couch, or decided to run out for Italian ice late at night.
And sure, that was fun, but you know what? Life seems fuller and richer with you in it, Ian. I remember what life used to be, but I’d never want to go back.
This was the year our friends and family gave us enough diapers to last for 6 months.
This was the year your dad and I learned to communicate better.
This was the year we read The Very Hungry Caterpillar a million times.
This was the year our laundry grew exponentially.
This was the year you learned to roll over and crawl and pull up.
This was the year I prayed more than ever.
This was the year we loved more than ever.
This was the year.
Happy birthday, Ian.