My Son

Dear Jacob,

Happy Birthday, grumblymunch! You woke up early yesterday morning, probably because I put you to bed at 8 the night before. I haven't seen many 7 AM mornings since we moved back to Colorado since our bedroom is West facing and sunlight doesn't touch your pretty face anymore. I didn't mind, but then you took a nap before 9, which gave me a chance to work out and shower. Then we had to go to Gramma's house and take Emma to the groomers. You loved to feed the groomer's huge dog treats. I only gave you one to give him, but after you figured out that he likes to eat them, you kept sticking your chubby finger out and chuckling when he gently took it into his mouth as he searched for a biscuit.

We drove to have lunch with Gramma in the park, and you fell asleep in the car on the way there. I let you sleep and you woke up after a bit, cried once and waited until I got you out. Then you ran around the park like a little wild child, holding a french fry, chocolate malt on your lips, and shaking your booty whenever I called out a song.

You climbed up a rock and it made you poop, which made you cry and ended our time outside. You really hate pooping. But you love toilets, especially sticking your hands in the potty water. This makes me cringe, mostly because you also love sticking your fingers in my mouth.

You love the library, you love being outside. The dogs are your favorite play toys, and when daddy comes home from work, you scramble up the stairs to see him. You love to nurse, but Cheeto puffs and Cheerios are always welcome. You hardly ever sleep past 1 AM in your crib, and I let you sleep with me without complaining too much. You have 10 teeth and you are working on 2 more. You can say "mama," "dada," "ya-ya" (bye bye), "yay Jacob," and you can cluck like a chicken and moo like a cow. Sorta. You fake laugh and fake cough and you think sneezing is funny. You bite when you're angry. You can spend almost a whole sermon in the nursery, and each time I pick you up afterwards, I'm a little sad you didn't need me earlier.

I thought I couldn't love you more when you were just a little blob on my lap, unable to sit up alone or say "mama." But now, you are my little man, always following me around the house, sitting on my chest when I do sit-ups, and snuggling next to me in the mornings. Today, I sat on the porch steps and watched you play in the yard, your onsie soaking wet from drinking out of the hose, a pair of Mardi Gras beads around your neck, standing on the Dora 4-wheeler, and yelling "YA-YA" as loudly as you could. And I thought, this is the perfect life.

Thank you, Jacobey. I love you!