In two days, you'll be one year old. I'm writing this now, because the next few days will be a flurry of baking cake, decorations, and hopefully tons of pictures of you devouring said cake.
You were a bit of a surprise. I hadn't really gotten comfortable in my role as a mom of two when you came along. But then as you grew, and then I grew, and we found out you were another boy, I came to grips with having a third. And as you squirmed, kicked, and hiccoughed over nine months, I came to adore you.
And then I actually had you. And then all the worries and fears vanished with your squishy face and only baby of mine with brown eyes.
You wound up being such a snuggler. You were the only baby I coslept with, and you made me regret that I didn't with the older two. Waking up in the morning and getting to nuzzle your warm baby head first thing in the morning was a highlight. When we eventually moved you out of our bedroom into the room you share with Smella, I was a little devastated. I missed your soft baby snores and your wiggling in the middle of the night.
You're also the most easy-going kid I know. And although lately, you've been hollering with things don't go your way, for the most part, you're go-with-the-flow.
You've already got quite the sense of humor. I walk into a room and you exclaim, "Dada!" And when corrected, you grin slyly and say it again. When I ask if you want to go bye bye, you haul your little butt as fast as you can to the door, waving the whole time. When I leave for work and ask for kisses, you run up to me and grab my legs, waiting for me to kiss your cheeks.
You are my little buddy. And while you were a huge surprise and a bit of a shocker, I wouldn't change anything. You are worth every worry and stretched dollar. You're my boobers, my chicken butt, my youngest baby boy. I can not believe this year is already over, but I can't wait to hang out with you next year.
I love you bunches,
*I'll accept Dada for now though.