The night before my son’s first birthday party he was puking his little guts out. We’re talking a mixture of sour milk and—okay, well maybe the ingredients aren’t crucial, but the point is that our little guy was sick at the worst possible time.
On the morning of his party, he seemed to be doing better. He had some color and was keeping food down. So the party went on as planned. A few friends and family with kids cancelled to be safe which meant more cupcakes for me. And the dogs. Mason stole three cupcakes and a half of a cheeseburger.
At one, Simon still doesn’t understand the concept of gifts. I’m mean, you could wrap a bottle and he’d be thrilled. But he received some great gifts nonetheless. Like this
So year one has been a success. We have four teeth, well three and a half. We like to wave, point, say Mama and Dadda, and have recently discovered what makes us a boy. He likes the real phones and not the fake ones, and the sleeping in his own crib? Well, we have our good nights and the bad. No complaints here. We’re healthy and loud and keep things around the house interesting.
For Dad, this first year has been one of a long winding learning curve, one that he's--me, I'm doing the third person thing here--still trying to get the hang of but with each day he’s feeling more comfortable in his role of Dad. We're learning together here.
So much has happened in this first year, but I fell like things are really just beginning. The personality on our little guy, he's one funny dude. And we're just getting started. I remember people always telling me, wait until they start crawling or wait until they start talking. They said it like it was a bad thing. Well, I look forward to the walking stage, the running stage, the screaming stage, all of it. Bring it on. Let the good times roll.