Oliver: One Year Later

Happy belated birthday, Oliver!

You came into our lives so peacefully and thoughtfully and easily, and have continued to demonstrate those traits over the last twelve months. We brought you home and you were so easy going, happy to have attention when attention was given, content to observe your surroundings when we were distracted.

I worked from home part time for a month before returning to work full time, and you would lay in your rocker and watch me, waiting for me to be done so I could hold you or play with you.

You watched your big sister with interest and tolerated her too-rough kisses and smothering hugs. We called you Meatball, Mister Guy, Chubby Wubby, and Buddy. You slept in Target, on walks, in the car, on our laps, on our chests and in our bed.

You learned to kick, to roll, to sit up, to crawl, to stand, to cruise, to climb and to walk. You say Mama, Dada, Aga.

You are the smartest baby that has ever lived (in my opinion). You are fascinated by how things work and I can see you watching to understand - Why does this go in here? What happens if I do this? Can this be put on this? - and you will try and master toys at this age that Agatha did not play with until she was two, if ever!

Your idea of Heaven is an open toilet to splash in, endless cupboards and drawers to open and close, a kitty to chase and millions of pacifiers. And food.

Oh, the food. You. Will. Eat. Anything. You are a lean, mean, eating machine. And I mean that literally. Although  you would be happy to be fed constantly, you are still a tiny guy. I pray that your love of food continues through toddlerhood, because I don't know if I can fight that battle with two children.

You love the bath. You love the pool. You love the water table. You love the treat of water in a REAL cup not a sippy cup. (Those are for BABIES!)

You go to bed like a champion. You grab your stuffed lamb, Sam, and snuggle into our shoulders. At nap time your make nary a peep. At bedtime you put up with your sister climbing into your crib to "entertain" you three or four times a night before you manage to fall asleep.

You are starting to enjoy books. You like books where you can DO something - lift a flap, feel a texture, etc. You love music, and dancing, and banging on instruments of any sort. 

I love you, little man. I love your open mouth kisses. I love your one floppy ear. I love your four little teeth and your belly laugh and how you clap for yourself when you are proud of something you've done. I love how you race towards the door when your dad gets home, how you try to put your sister's shoes on, how you love taking my shoes off my feet when I get home from work. I love when you walk over and rest your head on my knee, or crawl on the ottoman and lay down. I love how you bounce up and down to music. I love how you are such a snuggle-bug. I love how you make people so happy when you reach for them and hug them and lay your head on their chest, then pick your head up, look at them and lay it down again. You are the sweetest boy in the world and I am so proud to be your mama.