Your birthday was on the same night as my work Christmas party (in my busiest work week of the year). We thought about skipping it to celebrate at home, but instead we dressed you up and brought you along, planning to slip out early.
You absolutely loved it. In a big hall filled with people, you toddled your way around the tables and chairs as if you were on a mission. You smiled and giggled at the lights and the people clapping to Christmas songs, and you tried to get on stage and join the band. You and momma even joined a conga line (because evangelicals don't know how to really dance, but they CAN do a conga line).
And then we whisked you home, where you partook in the sacred family ritual on your mom's side, which is trying ice cream for the first time on your first birthday. You took a chunk of ice cream in your fist and tried to eat it with a worried look on your face because of the cold until it melted into your lap and you took a good look at your chocolate cake.
Washed down by a cup of milk:
Your favorite present was an awesome looking keyboard (from Aldi's, don't tell anyone!), and you were delighted by the music (and maybe still also on a sugar high).
We are hoping you are past the worst of the falling over stage, because just before Christmas you had a bruise on both sides of your forehead AND a shiner under your eye.
Last night you woke yourself up coughing and I came in and picked you up. You snuggled in, your cheek against mine and your head on my shoulder, relaxed into your momma. I held you and thought - amazing. Holding a child like this is one of the most amazing things in life. It's a privilege to be your momma. I love you, my little man.