This year has seemed long in some ways—lots of adjustments, fitful sleep, figuring out how to be two people’s everything. But my how it has flown. The days are long and the years are short, as they say.
It always amazes me the difference a years’ time makes for a little one. You have gone from a tiny, blinking, crying, sleeping, pooping newborn to a smiling, giggling, crawling, playing little boy. Your personality is certainly in full bloom.
To describe you at a year is a touch difficult. If you were a girl I might describe you as dramatic or feisty, but neither of those adjectives seem boyish enough for you. Let’s just say that you are a rascal. Your impish grin, your mischievous chuckle, your playful spirit all testify. You do things to make us laugh and even play practical jokes. Honest.
Take your current refusal to say “Mama.” I have made peace with the fact that you said “Dada” first. Thing is, I know that you can say Mama. I plead with you: “Say Mamama.” You reply, “MaDADADA.” I repeat: “Say, “Mama.” You chuckle. I entreat: “Say Mama.” You smile and shake your head no. Joker. You’re teasing me, I know it.
Even so, if I know anything about you, it’s that you love me. When I appear again after a few minutes absence, you squeal, crawl to me, and demand to be held. When I pick you up, you giggle and shriek and your whole body flails and rocks and bounces. You bury your head in my neck and pat me on the back as if I’ve just told you a good joke. You grin at me, plant a big, sloppy kiss on my mouth, then grin at me again. It is good to be loved like that.
You love a lot of things, little one. You enjoy life more than anyone else I have met (with the possible exception of your Daddy). You love your Daddy, your sister, playing with toys, unloading baskets, putting things in your mouth, eating, climbing, baths, and exploring. Your mobility provides lots of opportunities to explore your surroundings. Though you are not the least bit interested in walking, you find plenty of ways to amuse yourself. You open cabinets, try to climb in the bathtub, climb into the rocking chair and rock yourself back and forth. You even love to dance. When the music starts, you get to your knees and bounce up and down to the beat. You throw your hands to the air and wave them around. Your daddy says that you have developed an air of confidence in the last few weeks. I think you have realized how much you can do and just how darn much fun it is.
I pray, my dear Tim-Tim, that you would keep that unhindered joy in life. This broken world has remnants of glory in it. Your beautiful little soul is one of them. I pray that the brokenness you undoubtedly will encounter will not squelch the joy you find in its beauty. I pray ultimately that you would find Jesus, the source of all joy and beauty. And I pray that I would be faithful to love you toward Him, to show you what his love is like, and remind you daily of His beauty and His love.
Happy Birthday, Tim-Tim!
All my love,
Mama
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