The Boy Turns One

My sweet, special boy.

He gives open-mouthed, slobbery kisses.

He is constantly "singing."

He eats paper when he thinks I'm not looking.

He is a snuggler, despite being in near-constant motion.

He says a small number of key words, the most important, of course, being "Mama."

He blows kisses.

He giggles like a maniac when his sister does something silly.

He kisses the pages of his books.

He is very ticklish.

He slyly initiates games of chase, silly songs with hand actions, and peekaboo.

He loves food, and eats anything and everything, despite having only two teeth and the tiniest tip of a third just cutting through.

He is already extremely cheeky.

He can throw a ball like nobody's business, and he gets down on his belly to search for it under furniture.

He walks toward me, arms above his head, and then hurls himself the last foot or so, confident that I will always catch him. 

He is pure joy. 

And on August 14th, he turned one.  We celebrated at a cottage in Ontario, where we were visiting with family (more on that in an upcoming post).

That's a carrot cake with cream cheese icing and his name spelled out in raisins.  With mama love baked right in.

Big sister helped blow out the candles.

 

And was excited to see him take his first bite.

You could say he liked it.

And he wasn't the only one.

It was a bittersweet moment in time for me. It is incredibly fulfilling to watch my children grow, but to see my baby looking more like a toddler made me a little nostalgic for the teeny, tiny, snuggly newborn days.  (Minus the sleep deprivation, of course.) Ah, such is the plight of motherhood.

Am I right in assuming that I'm not alone in this?  Do children's birthday parties make you feel a little wistful too?