Dear Boo Boo
Dear Boo Boo,
Today is your first birthday. Technically, you’re not officially a year old until 6:03 p.m. I could make you wait, ahem, like you made me wait, but mama likes her a good birthday. So daddy and I have a nice little day planned for you. Just a heads-up, though: We will be putting you down for naps. Oh, and by the way, pay no mind to mama’s poor grammar in this blog. It’s intentional. I know what I’m doing so don’t try this yourself yet. It’s sure to ruin your chances of becoming a world-renowned linguist one day. And that would just make me sad.
Anyway, happy birthday little one. It’s been quite the year. First of all, I want to apologize for not feeding you enough those first couple of weeks. I didn’t realize that’s why you were crying. I just assumed you were out to get me. You were eating like a grown man if grown men ate Similac. I was sure 28 ounces a day for a one-week old had to be sufficient. What did I know? I just want to put that out there now in case you ever have food issues later in life; you’ll know where they came from. Also, sorry about the naps. It’s just that you need them, dude. You are most unpleasant without them. So if you could just sleep a couple of times a day and cut the crying, which by the way, is gut-wrenching, that’d be swell.
That said, you rock, little man. You’re hilarious and love (really, really love) being around people. Other people thrill you. You have a pretty large vocabulary and love saying hi to everyone you meet. I think my favorite word you say is light because now you can actually say it with an l and you joyfully point out every light you see regardless of whether it’s on. You don’t ever get tired of it and neither do I. Oh, you can also say book and read and that makes me love you even more. Kidding. I already loved you even more.
You’re not walking yet, but you’ve been wanting to for what seems like forever. You do, however, crawl wicked (also sorry you were born to a Massachusetts chick) fast and you have the cutest little booty.
You like to bite the furniture, which is totally not cool, by the way. If you could stop that, that’d be great. I’ll get over what you did to your crib rails, but quit messing with the rest of the house. Not okay.
Your giggle is the best and you have a fit of laughter at least once a day, usually when being tickled or engaged in a rousing game of peek-a-boo. Who knew peek-a-boo held such potential? You have this full belly laugh and now I truly understand what a contagious laugh is.
Oh, and you love eating pizza, which makes me know for sure you are my son. Also, you love yogurt. I think you might be an addict. When I was pregnant with you, I had this theory that you either loved yogurt or had some kind of unknown fetal allergy. Every time I ate yogurt, you became crazy active. Sometimes when you were particularly quiet on a given day, I’d eat yogurt just so you’d bounce around a little and I’d freak out less. So I was right that you liked yogurt and I could still be right about the allergy because sometimes you puke it up. Gross, but true. See — mamas just know stuff.
You are a very fortunate boy, if only because you were born to two parents who love you more than anything else in the world. You have two sets of grandparents who adore you and a bunch of aunts, uncles, and cousins who think you’re pretty cool. You may not understand right now why that makes you so lucky, but some day I’ll explain it to you.
Here is what I ask of you: Be a good boy. Be kind. Be caring. Be gracious. Be generous.
Continue to be curious. Learn as much as you can. And whatever you decide to do in life, be happy with it. If you’re not happy and it’s possible, try something else. Don’t be afraid to make changes.
You will always have what you need, but you won’t always get what you want. Telling you that now. And please don’t whine when you don’t get what you want. Mama don’t play that. Know that your daddy and I will always be here for you. We may not bail you out in the way you want, but we’ll help you find the way. We got your back (and your front and sides). Always.
Buon compleanno il mio principe. Happy birthday my prince.