Dear Emmet,
Today is your first birthday. I can’t believe it. I know I say this every year when my children
grow a year older in a moment’s time, but you are my last baby, and I
especially want to hold on to your youth.
You are now standing solo and thinking about taking those
first steps. You love it when I hold
your hands, let go, and cheer when you are balanced on your feet.
Your first word was “Mama” and I love that you are a mama’s
boy. You love your Daddy so, but when it
comes to calming you down, it’s a mama’s touch you call for. Every night before I lay you down, you
snuggle on my shoulder—somehow able to block out your sisters’ bedtime
racket.
Speaking of your sisters . . .
You adore them. You
call them both “All—lie.” You crave being
near them, and oh how they can make you laugh. Especially, Audrey. she has that magic gift. They fight over you,
daily—racing to your room when you wake from nap—climbing into your crib to
play.
Along with your sisters, you love the dogs. You call for them as soon as we get home in
the evening. “Dog-a” is probably your
favorite word at the time.
Your favorite pastime?
The bath. You flop around like a
fish, even dipping your face in the water.
Eating is a close second. You
haven’t met a food you haven’t liked.
I didn’t know “boy” after having two girls. I wasn’t sure about having a little boy
because it was out of my comfort zone, but baby boys are an amazing gift. We get to teach you how to grow up to become
a good man, like your father.
Life with three kids is challenging at the moment. Never enough time, enough hands, or a clean
house for that matter, but I don’t wish for this current frenzied life to pass
quickly. One day my house will be clean,
I will be productive, and I may even have leisure time on a regular basis, but
I will miss this. I will miss the
frenzy.
I can’t imagine our family without you. Today, please know the profound difference
you have made in our lives.
We love you Meatball/EmmieT/Whapadoodle!
