Happy Birthday Cole!

Dear Cole,

New Year’s Eve you turned 2. Your first two years have given me more happiness than I’d ever known before you. From the very beginning, you met the world with more vitality than we expected from a newborn, rolling from your back to your side just out of the birth canal to check out the cute nurses as they cleaned your little wienie, and then lifting your head up the next morning, at just 1 day old, to look around the hospital room.

Since then you’ve continued to do everything full-throttle with your characteristic zeal. You kept us up crying countless hours your first 4 months with one of the most severe cases of colic I’ve heard of, just so we’d figure out that you ruled the house. One particularly bad night your dad was beyond exasperation and screamed at both of us, "Something’s wrong with this baby! We have to take him to the Emergency Room!"
"Honey," I reminded him, "I AM the Emergency Room." I know you were amused at that one.

You find ridiculous amounts of amusement in every little thing. Take your newborn baths, for example. You kicked, kicked, KICKED with a spastic fervor that would send fountains of water all over the bathtub and usually whoever was bathing you, while simultaneously slapping the water violently with both hands. And this wasn’t just every now and then; this was the entire time you were in the tub, every single bath you got. No wonder you are such a good sleeper, considering the boundless energy you expend every second you are awake.

It is spectacular to watch you grow and discover. Last year you hardly knew what to do with the humongous piece of birthday cake we put in front of you.

This year you surprised us by blowing on the candles like an old pro as soon as they got within breathing distance, just like you saw Dada do on his birthday a few weeks earlier.
It is amazing how you pick everything up this way, like a little sponge, without us having to even teach you. Here’s another example: Saturday was your birthday party. (We rented out The Little Gym – GREAT place!) After getting you all fired up about the party in the preceding days, I asked you the night before the big day, "Cole, do you know what’s happening tomorrow?"
"Happy to you!" you said, remembering what was sung to you with your cake on New Year’s Ever.

At your birthday party all I wanted to do was watch your face light up into a huge "I’m so proud of myself" grin as you ran around from uneven bars to balance beam to moonbounce mat. You jumped right into everything without fear or hesitation, with your signature uninhibited zealousness. It’s probably the only party a lot of parents had been to where the birthday boy stands up and vigorously punches the helium balloons tied to his party chair like a punching bag instead of sitting down for one minute and eating his cake.

It’s fun to see that you inherited at least a little bit of my "spaz" qualities, but when it comes to being a wild man, you are definitely your father’s child. In my wedding vows I told him, "You are my handful, my crazy-man, my laughing source." Well, Cole, you are my handful junior, my crazy-man junior, my laughing source junior.
You fill every moment with sweet (and sometimes not-so-sweet) surprises. It is a joy and privilege to be your mom. Each day with you is truly a gift.

Happy Birthday to my perfect little man.

I love you!

Love,
Mama

P.S. Check out the lyrics to "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts. I think of you and Graham whenever I hear this song.