Alex,

Today most people would say that you are one years old. Your sisters have been trying to get you to hold up one finger for over a week now. Your daddy keeps asking you how old you are and you laugh at him.

Me? Well here’s the truth son. I’m not going to admit that you are one. If I say it, it’s real. Instead I came up with a brilliant idea. I will tell people that you are just 12 months. After today, I’ll tell them, oh he’s twelve months and change. It should work for a while.

Yesterday you had shots. You know… for your 12 month visit. Anyway, the shots gave you a fever in the afternoon and you spent the majority of it, laying on me. You weren’t crying, you weren’t interested in doing a single solitary thing, except laying on me. It made me happy. I know, I shouldn’t say that, but it did. Even though you are no longer that 8.6 pound butterball that we brought home. Even though you are now a 22 pound brute of a boy, it made me happy to have you laying on my chest, like you did for the first few months of your life.

Every day, every single moment,  for the past 365 days, I have been grateful for you. You are one of the three shining lights in my life.

As a third child you have done and been given certain things that your sisters had to wait for. What can I say? You get tired by the third kid.  *shrug* Let’s just put it this way dude. You love to eat Cheetos that I um…possibly put on the floor for you. You’ve had more dairy in the past month than your sisters had by the time they were two. We have, as of last week weaned you of bottles, but I honestly may let you keep those binky’s until college if you want. I don’t mind if you suck on my phone, empty all the Tupperware or jump on the bed. You get the joy of a third time mama. A tired mama.  A mama who knows that none of this will harm you. A mama who knows that 10 minutes of peace, is worth the mess.

You love to eat just about anything (I wish you’d stop trying to eat Lil’s food. She’s a dog. You are a boy. Enought said.) and I have this problem with not giving it too you. You don’t scream if I don’t, but you look at me with those puppy dog eyes and your little bottom lips quivers a bit. I hand you whatever it was, that I had just told you I wasn’t going to give you. Don’t get used to it, okay? I can be a hard ass. Just not yet.

Moving on…you have been the baby that makes people say, oh I should have a baby. You daddy likes to say that had you been first, we’d be like the Duggars by now. He’s delirious, but it is funny. For the first six months of your life, I was afraid for you. I was afraid that you were too perfect. That I’d lose you somehow because you were too perfect. Then you turned six months old. You learned to crawl. You stopped sleeping well. You learned how to get into everything. You learned how to annoy your sisters to no end. I think at that point, I stopped worrying about you a bit.

We call you baby Destructo. It’s very fitting. You are all boy and all toddler these days, which is normal. You are very, very, very destructive. Nothing is safe. Nothing. You love to tear apart papers, unload drawers, over turn plants and pretty much you leave a trail of destruction wherever you go. If I lose you in the house (not that I’ve ever done that. ahem) I can easily find you, by following the stuff. The remotes, magazines torn to bits, your sister’s shoes, tampons; all leave a trail to wherever you happen to be wreaking havoc in the moment.

However, you are easily entertained by two matchbox cars. You can sit for an hour and toss the dog a tennis ball down the hall. She loves you best by the way. This is new for me, this ability to entertain yourself. You are better at sitting and entertaining yourself that either of your sisters are at five and nearly eight years old.You sisters both adore you as well. Most the time at least.

You are quiet and serious. Your dad and I have spent literally hours (possibly days) trying to make you smile. You like to laugh at us, but you are not so quick with the smiles. You are a thinker. I don’t mind that. One drama queen and one comedian is enough for one family. I’ll take a serious thinker. The truth is, you are just like your daddy. I ddin’t realize how much until your grandma told me so. She said, eh, he’s nothing, he’s just fine, don’t worry. We didn’t think Logan liked us until he was two. We kept expecting him to walk out and find a new family. Your grandma’s a funny lady.

Smooshy, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Your daddy and sisters feel the same way. I can not believe that you’ve been here an entire year. If feels like you were always here. Always one of us.

Happy first birthday Smoosh.

Love you to bits,

Mama