happy birthday reese

on your second birthday

to my precious, magical little boy on his second birthday:

how you have grown this year, my darling boy.  it's hard to believe that only one year ago, you could not walk, talk, or chew very effectively.  in just one trip around the sun, you have gone from a sweet baby to an incredible little boy.  you cannot imagine how i delight in your laughter, how i love to clutch your squishy little body close to me, how i love our dialogue and your jokes and stories.  i wonder if you know how full you make our hearts, our lives.

13 months old

15 months

16 months

and while so much about you has changed, so much has also stayed the same, and i find myself wishing constantly that it always will.  you may not believe that certain aspects of one's character can be so evident in infancy, but our suspicions that you would be loving, affectionate, easy going, independent and so very sweet have all been reinforced.  

you are at once very social and also very content playing by yourself.  you have a masterful grasp of puzzles and blocks.  you love to read books and to color and paint, and have taken a special interest in cooking.  we have watched you take your first steps, and now you run in circles until you collapse, or dribble a soccer ball as if you're preparing for the world cup.  

you speak not only in words, but in full sentences, and any request you make has a minimum of three "pleases" woven into it.  this sweetness, we believe, is inborn and cannot be taught (though we do try!).  your intelligence is striking.  when you speak, your voice is almost indistinguishable from your sister, but when you sing, it takes on a peculiar, rich quality somewhere in the baritone register.  you love to sing and dance.

in this second year of your life, you have traveled from chicago to michigan to your new home in california, to berkeley, point reyes, and yosemite national park.  you have hiked to the shores of lake tahoe, to the peak of muir woods, and to mirror lake tucked deep within the yosemite forest, singing merrily all the while from the sound of music.

you are sensitive and gentle, a true people pleaser.  you are a clever comedian and know just how to make us all laugh. you adore your older sister and feel lost without her.  you tolerate her mood swings better than the rest of us, and frequently oblige our family dynamic by tiptoeing around her when necessary.  of course, you also know how to push her buttons, and on the rare occasions you choose to do so, i don't mind acting oblivious.

i marvel at you.  every day, i marvel.  you quiet my mind in a way nothing else can.  i watch you, and i am transfixed.  parenthood has so many countless challenges that feel impossible to overcome, and we just hope that soon they will pass.  that our children will grow and we can leave this time behind.  every day, i try to memorize you.  to soak you in.  every day, i watch you playing, thinking, creating, and i imagine myself inside your mind (except when your internal monologue becomes external, and that is always quite entertaining).  i memorize the sweet curve of your face.  i say to myself, "please, never grow.  please, stay just as you are."  

 

i love this photo of you.  whatever you are doing here is so you.

you are so amazing, so sensitive yet so unflappable, so intelligent yet so relatable, so independent yet so affectionate.  a million fascinating juxtapositions that i am sure can exist only in you.  i wish desperately that i could keep you just the way you are, but i know that bittersweet feeling only a mother can know, that grow you will, grow you must, and that the future brings untold joy as you continue becoming yourself.  we are so privileged, truly, to witness it.

 happy birthday, sweet prince, full of light, full of ardor.  thank you for being exactly who you are, our family peacemaker, our comic relief, our sunshine.  we don't deserve you, but we are so very happy to call you our own.