My second born turns one year old today, and I am in total denial. In fact, it may be possible that I still enjoy feeding him mushy food with a spoon and up until recently kept him in infant sized socks.
Time flies…we have heard that over and over, again and again. But it’s true. It’s too true. And I’ve found with the second one, it rushes by even faster.
Today we celebrated in tiny ways because my husband is currently gone until next week: a picnic in the park (although, we’ll called it a picnic snack ’cause I had no food in the house except Honey ‘O cereal, Kashi granola bars, and an applesauce pouch), FaceTime with daddy, Pa, Grammy and Grandpoo, a chat with Aunt Moosie, and some good play time with some bouncy balls, a remote control or two, and some building blocks.
It was a good day, but now both kids are in bed and I’m in that motherly reminiscent place where I remember this day last year so vividly.
One of the best day of my life. And now, here he is, four teeth, two wobbly legs and a head of blonde hair later. He is my independent, rough and tumble boy, and I couldn’t imagine life without him.
Happy Birthday, little man. We love you to the moon, to Jupiter, to Neptune, and beyond.