This weekend, you turned one. One! Time with you seems to speed by faster than the way you zoom for that piece of dropped pasta on the floor (which you are really quick at doing). You arrived quickly, this tiny thing in my arms. Somehow the months have slipped by, while I was busy chasing after you while you tried to eat sand at the playground. I've lost track of time, and you amaze and remind me with each new milestone that you achieve that you are growing up, too quickly, too soon. How did one year past so fast? And how does one squeeze one year's memories in a letter? I can't, so I will write just about this weekend.
This weekend, we gave you another haircut. Which you weren't too happy about. You squirmed and wriggled but Papa managed to trim your hair. You are the squirmiest baby we've ever met and are not content to sit still in somebody's lap (unless we have a book).
This weekend, your brother made you a birthday cake. One of the things you can now eat, among the many things that he says you can't, until you're grown-up like him ("when baby J grows up, he can eat chocolates/cake/ice cream!").
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| Junior J making Gâteau au Yaourt (Yoghurt cake). We got our recipe from here. |
This weekend, you played with your brother. You love hanging around with him, no matter that he takes your toys and sometimes pushes you around. You're a forgiving little fellow and love it when he reads to you ("That's an apple, baby! An apple!"). You cannot help but giggle when he does, even though you have no idea what the joke is about. I am so glad that the both of you have each other, and I'm so blessed to have the both of you.
This weekend, you read books. And pointed. And said "star!" and "tootle!" (turtle). And chewed your shoes, and exclaimed "shoooooo!".
This weekend, you smiled, even though you've caught the bad bug that has been plaguing your brother and I. You've been coughing and drippy and feverish, and I've had to type this while carrying you for most part of the night. You've vomited twice, but nevertheless, you're still able to give us that grin of yours, which makes these sick days feel more bearable.
I hope you'll get well soon, my little boy. Then we'll be able to have another celebration for you... Meanwhile, I'm praying that the sick days will pass more quickly, but the growing up days, more slowly!
Love,
Your Mama
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