Birthday letter for Thomas, belated
Dearest Thomas,
Your first birthday was last Tuesday, and found us in the middle of Thanksgiving preparations. True to form, you didn't mind the sea of activity that surrounded your birthday -- you were just as sweet, unruffled, and stoic as ever. Don't get the wrong impression of yourself from reading that last sentence, though. You've never lacked the ability to take care of yourself. As I'm typing this, James is trying to yank Duncan the Vaguely Mustard-Colored Engine out of your fist, and you have stuck a finger up each of his nostrils to haul him, and Duncan, back toward you.
Back in a moment.
Mediating disputes like this is part of why it's taken me a slap week to post your birthday letter, but I wouldn't change a thing about either of you. Part of the joy of the past year has been watching, not only your own development, but the development of your and James's friendship. You will get into fights that would (if we gave them the chance) make lucha libre look like a tea party, but each of you is the first on the scene if the other is hurt or sad. The two of you have so much in common, though your personalities are so different.
A snapshot of you today: You are thirty inches tall and weigh just under twenty-two pounds, making you a bit taller and skinnier than average. You love to climb up and down stairs, upholstery, and bookcases, but despite your fluent cruising you're not yet interested in solo walking. You're beautifully coordinated -- you've just unscrewed the front doorknob again, and have dainty table manners -- and, rather than gathering an audience for your new exploits, prefer to keep your own counsel until you've proved to yourself that you can remove that lock, scale that bookcase, or say that new word. Instead of sleeping at night, you like to walk around the house with me, pointing at objects and listening to their names. Relatedly, you've said at least two or three dozen words to date, including apple, map, music, light, and phone. Your favorite phrase (aside from "more nursing") is "Hey, Jay." You love anything that's blue.
One other thing -- The memory of your birth date is bittersweet, because we spent so little of it together, but we've more than made up for that this year. Happy, happy birthday, sweet Chuffle Bunny. We love you so.
Your first birthday was last Tuesday, and found us in the middle of Thanksgiving preparations. True to form, you didn't mind the sea of activity that surrounded your birthday -- you were just as sweet, unruffled, and stoic as ever. Don't get the wrong impression of yourself from reading that last sentence, though. You've never lacked the ability to take care of yourself. As I'm typing this, James is trying to yank Duncan the Vaguely Mustard-Colored Engine out of your fist, and you have stuck a finger up each of his nostrils to haul him, and Duncan, back toward you.
Back in a moment.
Mediating disputes like this is part of why it's taken me a slap week to post your birthday letter, but I wouldn't change a thing about either of you. Part of the joy of the past year has been watching, not only your own development, but the development of your and James's friendship. You will get into fights that would (if we gave them the chance) make lucha libre look like a tea party, but each of you is the first on the scene if the other is hurt or sad. The two of you have so much in common, though your personalities are so different.
A snapshot of you today: You are thirty inches tall and weigh just under twenty-two pounds, making you a bit taller and skinnier than average. You love to climb up and down stairs, upholstery, and bookcases, but despite your fluent cruising you're not yet interested in solo walking. You're beautifully coordinated -- you've just unscrewed the front doorknob again, and have dainty table manners -- and, rather than gathering an audience for your new exploits, prefer to keep your own counsel until you've proved to yourself that you can remove that lock, scale that bookcase, or say that new word. Instead of sleeping at night, you like to walk around the house with me, pointing at objects and listening to their names. Relatedly, you've said at least two or three dozen words to date, including apple, map, music, light, and phone. Your favorite phrase (aside from "more nursing") is "Hey, Jay." You love anything that's blue.
One other thing -- The memory of your birth date is bittersweet, because we spent so little of it together, but we've more than made up for that this year. Happy, happy birthday, sweet Chuffle Bunny. We love you so.
posted by Ridley at
2:24 PM
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