Exactly 1 year ago today, as I write this, you were being born. Yes, I am writing your 1 year letter on the day of your birthday. Let's just say you keep me a little busy these days.
From your level of activity in utero, I should have known you'd be a wild man. I can still clearly remember lying awake at night, my poor bladder absorbing your kicks and punches.
Only these days, all your energy is put into giving me a heart attack. If it's dangerous, you want it. If it can hurt you, you make a bee-line for it. You have no fear of anything, and while that will serve you well later on in life, all it's doing now is aging me prematurely.
You have no time to snuggle, give kisses or demonstrate your love in any way. You are way too busy getting into trouble. You will, however, sit in my lap for a story. The reading of which makes you laugh manically for some strange reason.
You love to dance, bop and move to music. It captivates you, and makes everyone around you laugh. Which is fine by you, since you seem to be the world's biggest ham. And for the record, wearing a napkin on your head while we're out at a restaurant is okay now, but you should probably stop it by the time you're in your 20s.
This year with you has been a wild ride, my little man. I love your craziness... but let's try and calm down for the next 365, m'kay?
1 week ago