It’s unimaginable to me that a year has passed since the day you were born. A year — and you are so grown up already.
The baby chick fuzz that used to adorn your head has been replaced with full bodied hair. I swear just last week I saw the last of the fuzzy wisps disappear and I’ve been running my fingers through your locks, searching for just a hint of my baby chick.
You’re still my baby, but you’re also so much more.
You’re walking now! And it’s getting you into heaps of fun and trouble. It’s quite impressive for someone who is still carried for most of the day — I just have to make sure you get walking breaks whenever we stop, because you can get stubborn and pushy. But I literally carry you for over half of your waking hours every day. At your insistance mind you. And you’re not exactly light, masha’Allah. You like my company and I like yours, so this arrangement works out just fine. The day you decide to walk to wherever it is we’re going, will probably be harder on me than you.
One of your favourite things to do is just roll around on the bed with me. You’re content to snuggle and cuddle and lie down staring into my eyes. Your affection is infectious and brings a smile to everyone. You wave at strangers — giving them big grins. You screech in excitement when Baba comes home. You howl with laughter when your sister plays with you. You love your stuffed animals, kissing them repeatedly whenever you see them.
And you’re communicating now! In so many amazing ways. If you see a duck, you say, “da!” and when Baba asks you to find your tumbo, you look at your belly and say, “ta!” If you want me to play with your stuffed animals, you shove them in my face — but if someone is missing from the game and I ask you to get your giraffe, you will leave the room to find her and bring her back. That blows my mind.
You’re officially signing milk now. Though, I think when people give you little waves of hello, you’re under the impression they’re signing milk to you. You’ll “wave” back and then proceed to pull down my shirt. We’re also working on water and more — which have varying degrees of success. You’re still preferring pointing and screaming.
Speaking of, you really love screaming. In joy. In anger. In pain. Or just because you can. It doesn’t bother me too much since I’ve developed an amazing ability to subconsciously lower the volume — much to the discontent of everyone on the bus. But it really is quite cute. Especially when you combine it with a laugh.
And where are your teeth? You’re still toothless, though that doesn’t stop you from gnawing on chicken or trying to gum us when you’re frustrated and angry. Actually, with the way you nurse by trying to stand on your head, maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have teeth yet. Ouch.
And could you please tell me why you like banging your head? On purpose? You’re a headbanger and do it for fun against pillows, or against the counter when you want to get my attention. Not cool, and you’re going to hurt yourself. So please stop.
I love it when you sing to yourself. I love it when you read your books. I love how incredibly content you are just to pack and unpack my purse. I love it when you laugh at splashing water. I love that you’re a happy baby. Alhamdulillah.
May you continue growing up to be a righteous person. May you walk in the light. May you be Blessed. May the fourth be with you my dear. Always.