Thursday, September 30, 2010

Dear Miles

Dear Miles,

One year old.

Even as I type it, I can hardly believe it. It has been an entire year since you were born. A year that seemed very long at times, and now seems to have flown by in the blink of an eye. A year of frustration and exhaustion. A year of joy and exultation. A year of milestones, smiles, tears, and every emotion in between.

The biggest thing that strikes me as I look back over this year is the miracle of you. Two years ago, you were nothing but a dream. You did not exist. Then, in February, when I found out about you, you were microscopically small. By September, you were 8 lbs. 0.6 oz - in nine months, you had grown from a few cells into a complete human. And now, a year later, you have transformed once more from a helpless newborn into a toddler with a personality, wants and ideas that are all your own. You are a miracle, never forget that. All babies are miracles. It is so easy to forget that, when babies surround us all the time, but you are a miracle. A miracle who means more to me than I would have ever known possible.

You walk. You chatter. You eat regular, grown-up food. You dance any time you hear a beat you like. You spin a mini-staff, just like the big gypsies. You growl in the back of your throat when you're frustrated, just like me. You get a mischievous grin every time you are planning something, just like your Daddy. You give hugs and kisses. You scream when we tell you "No". You go to bed all on your own, now. You trip and fall, and then laugh. You use sign language to ask for everything from "milk" to "music" to "up". You climb on the playground equipment, but you're scared to go down the slide unless I hold you in my lap. You make faces at the camera. You greet everyone with an enthusiastic "Hi!" and a wave. You lounge on the couch after a long day. You still hate waking up. You can get dirty faster than anyone I've ever met. Your hair never stays brushed for more than a few seconds. You love being outdoors. You like to roll around on the bed, crazily crashing over into the pillows. You 'talk' to me in the mornings, and I imagine you must be telling me of your dreams. You love tickles. And raspberries on your cheek. And whispers in your ear. And pasta, of all shapes, and with all types of sauce. You try to feed people, often by shoving a small bit of food into their mouths with your slobber-covered hands. You like to put your head on the floor and your butt in the air and giggle. Your best friend is the little boy in the mirror. One of your favorite toys is a baby doll, and you can already point out his eyes. You try to repeat everything I say. You climb everything. And once you're asleep, you could sleep through a brass band.

In short, you are beginning to show us what a wonderful little individual you are becoming. And I am loving it. :)

I love you, my Birthday Boy!


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