One Year


One year old. This little guy. How did that happen?

His hair is so soft and fuzzy. Another kid said, What’s his name? Fuzzy?

He is kind of fuzzy, his head soft as a peach.

He cuddles. Oh my God, he cuddles. Just leans into you. Holds onto your fingers, the tiniest touch.

He is so chill, the chillest baby ever.

He likes to roll around in bed with you. Flip over you. Roll over you. Laugh and show his six new teeth.

He scoots. He is a marathon scooter. No crawling. Just this crazy peg-leg scoot, zipping from one corner to the next.

And now he wants to walk. He wants you to hold his hand and walk him around the house, circling, circling, circling. And he gets so happy, he laughs, you can’t help but do whatever he wants.

It’s amazing to me, how you fall for your children. You can feel yourself falling, like a love affair, how it sweeps you up and changes everything, your whole world.

This guy. I was so scared to have him. Scared of everything: how we would afford it, how we would juggle it, how it would all work out.

But then you just fall head over heels and all of that stuff is still there, but there’s nothing else to do but roll with it:

And you’re just holding this little package that smells like honey and he’s holding onto your finger, so lightly, leaning into you.

One year old already. I can’t believe it.

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