Dear Graham,My little angel, you turned 1 year old last week. 
A year ago when I was bringing you into the world, I had no idea what a precious, gentle, sweet little soul you would be. If I could spend all day every day sitting and cuddling you, I would, because there is nothing sweeter than your warm nuzzle on my shoulder.
A year ago when I was bringing you into the world, I had no idea what a precious, gentle, sweet little soul you would be. If I could spend all day every day sitting and cuddling you, I would, because there is nothing sweeter than your warm nuzzle on my shoulder.
Maybe it's because you are our second child, but you are such an easy baby. You go for days without crying. Instead of fussing when you don't get something, you'll hang back and patiently wait for us to meet your needs. I don't know where you get your patience, because neither Dada nor I are anywhere near this patient. And then when you finally get the attention you need, you light up in your big cheeky "I love you" grin and reward us with your million-watt smile. We all could learn a lesson from you about positive reinforcement. You are already a glass-half-full kind of person.
When things don’t go your way you are the most forgiving and easy-going little man. The other day Cole hauled o
ff and hit you in both cheeks with BOTH hands simultaneously while you were bathing together. I was so busy disclipining Cole that I didn't fully appreciate how little attention you required after what was probably a traumatic event. When I got done yelling at Cole, Oma pointed out, "Man, he took that like a champ. Didn't even cry. Just kept doing what he was doing." Likewise, the other night while I was changing Cole's diaper, you managed to pinch your fingers in Cole's dresser drawer, and you actually DID cry for once. Of course, I had a finger-full of diaper creme and couldn't pick you up right that instant. By the time I threw Cole's diaper on and wiped my hand and could get to you, you had already comforted yourself and were done with the tears. It's like you're just thankful and happy for what you have and don't want to waste time bitching. May you always keep this rare and enviable outlook on life. I'm still no sure where you got it.
ff and hit you in both cheeks with BOTH hands simultaneously while you were bathing together. I was so busy disclipining Cole that I didn't fully appreciate how little attention you required after what was probably a traumatic event. When I got done yelling at Cole, Oma pointed out, "Man, he took that like a champ. Didn't even cry. Just kept doing what he was doing." Likewise, the other night while I was changing Cole's diaper, you managed to pinch your fingers in Cole's dresser drawer, and you actually DID cry for once. Of course, I had a finger-full of diaper creme and couldn't pick you up right that instant. By the time I threw Cole's diaper on and wiped my hand and could get to you, you had already comforted yourself and were done with the tears. It's like you're just thankful and happy for what you have and don't want to waste time bitching. May you always keep this rare and enviable outlook on life. I'm still no sure where you got it. Even when you do fuss for longer than a few seconds it's so hard to get mad at you. Dada and I often comment that we don't mind hauling our asses out of bed at 4am on the now very rare nights that you don't sleep through the night, because even at that hour you are unusually sweet and just take your bottle and snuggle up to us then doze right back off. It's easy to tell when you are sick, because that's actually the only time you really, really cry.
Next to happy in the dictionary should be a picture of your face. Everyone comments about your smile, and you flash it often, as if you know it's your best asset. There is nothing more rewarding than getting on the floor and crawling over to where you are contently playing by yourself and giving you a big tickle or squeeze or kiss then hearing your HUGE squeal of glee and watching the joy just radiate out of your face.
Many things make you happy:
You love your walker, and soon you will be walking on your own. With the walker's help you are practically running. On your own, you will stand and balance on two feet with ease, but you are still hesitant about taking that first step. You want to so badly, I can tell, but aren't quite sure enough yet.
If I don't hear you or see you, I go to the dog's water dish and usually find you tipping it over and gleefully playing in the puddle. For your birthday you got a water table and you've been having a grand old time splashing away in it on the porch.
You love exploring. While you are content and easy-going, you are NOT timid. You'll assert yourself and get into the middle of whatever is going on and then just be so pleased with yourself... Like when you crawl on over and sit your little butt right in the middle of the big picture book we're trying to read Cole at bedtime, or when you come into my room while I'm trying to get ready and help yourself to my make-up drawer and start sucking on my lipstick, or when you try to steal our beer,
or when when you crawled into the middle of the sandbox while the bigger kids where playing.
or when when you crawled into the middle of the sandbox while the bigger kids where playing.
And you love, above all, your mama. Definitely a mama’s boy, you always want to be nuzzled into my neck, and I love it. When I hold you and kiss your fat little face and stroke your soft whispy baby hair, it is instantly calming. It's like you radiate purity and peace.
I can't believe you are one now. Your first year has gone by so fast. You have blossomed before my eyes into this angel of a baby, and I am so lucky to call you my son. I know you are going to do great things.
Happy Birthday to my perfect little man.
I love you!
Love,
Mama
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