Happy Birthday, Monkey

With each milestone we cross, I look back longingly at the baby I once knew and cherished, and forward to the precocious little boy I can see in your excited smile. Today, you mumble syllables and walk like Frankenstein as long as your holding on to someone's hand. We know you absorb and understand so much because we've seen each of your many light bulbs illuminate. You love to smile, and it's infectious. You need your sleep, but you stubborn about it. You eat every meal like you're starving. I don't think you even know what hungry is, though you think you're plagued by it. You're a joyous player, whether it's with blocks, cars, rattles or books; you're not picky. You just want to taste and touch and feel and see and hear and learn about everything.

I've tried to take you in each day in all of your innocent glory. You know more now about joy and happiness than so many of us do. I've tried to remember how you've developed daily, mostly aided by the hundreds of pictures of the special and not-so-special days over this past year. In the end, I can only remember so much. The details are already getting fuzzy, but I have an enormous amount of fulfillment at having been able to experience each step with you. Every day, you're a new and different person offering us new and different glimpses of pleasure. Your hugs are fabulous. Your giggle is ridiculous.

We wanted to get you something special for your birday. So, we give you chocolate. Your first take of the substance you are genetically predisposed to love (if someone else has snuck him a taste, don't tell me).

Cheers to every day we've had, and every day to come.

Happy Birthday, Monkey!