You aren’t a baby anymore. It’s been a long time coming, I know. There have been plenty of hints along the way: When you started sleeping exclusively in your crib (not even snuggling during nap time!); when the twins came home and I held those wobbly headed, snorting little bundles of joy, as you chased (read: tormented) Sofia; when you became a bonafide kid who actually plays with other kids. My baby isn’t a baby. I know everything I’m about to say is totally cliche, but seriously, cliches are cliches for a reason. They are true and must be repeated. This past year has just flown by! I could have sworn it was just yesterday that you came into this world and changed our lives forever. When did you become a big boy? As I held those tiny little cousins of yours in my arms, you ran around the room like a maniac, hugging my legs, pulling my dress over your head, calling out “mama.” Whoa. A year ago you were the tiniest little in my arms, today you’re something else. (I’m a real boy!). You’re a full time walker, part time mischief maker. You only recently became someone who understands humor. As you know, your Daddy’s laugh is incredible. It’s reminiscent of Winnie the Pooh in it’s sweetness, but it also booms, filling the whole room with laughter. Now, whenever Daddy laughs, you break out in the most hilarious, fake laugh I’ve ever heard. It sounds exactly like this: Hah – Hah – Hah – Hah (pause) Hah – Hah – Hah – Hah. You’re a ham. You all of a sudden decided you’re old enough to hang with the big kids. You chase them around (they mostly hate it), you “talk” to the cats whenever you see them (this mostly means yelling loudly in their faces), and your eyes practically bug out of your head when you get the opportunity to touch them. And, in the last three days you have become opinionated and willful. You point deliberately at objects you desire (especially at nap time – when you’d rather play with your toys than take a nap), making demands and shaking your head vigorously when we mistakenly grab the wrong object. We’ve been trying (to no avail) to teach you to say please (in sign language) when you want something – I swear you would rather cut off your own hand than follow this simple request. But, at the same time, you go over to my many jars of tea (a place you love to play, but just aren’t allowed to) and stand there, saying, “no, no, no” before running off on some other exploration. You give endless hugs, thoroughly enjoy being the center of attention, and are our pride and joy.
I have been asked so many times this past year if parenting is what I expected. I often struggle to answer this question. It’s too difficult to explain how one can never, ever prepare for how life will change when that baby is born. I thought I knew how much love I would have for you, this tiny little human that I made. But, I was so wrong. Wyatt, you bring me more joy than I ever, in a million trillion years, could ever have guessed. You make me happy, always – even when you make me frustrated. All I want to do is hold you and kiss you and hold you some more. Your presence in our lives is exactly, perfectly as it should be, and at the same time, has expanded my heart a godzillian times more than I thought possible. I love you Wyatt. I am proud to call you my son. I have loved you since I knew you were in my belly, since the first time I laid eyes on you, since the first time you smiled at me, since you sat in my lap this morning as I read you a book. I can’t imagine life without you.
Happy birthday, Son.