Jasper. Roo. Little Buddy Boy Child.
You did it, pal. You’ve turned a year old- well, that is, within a matter of hours you will have. Tomorrow is officially your birthday but, for those of us all-too aware of this imminently cresting milestone, it’s pretty much been here since- oh, July.
You’re it, kid. My last one year-old. My first little guy. A person (albeit a smallish one) where, just 12 months ago, existed only a belly of potential and nerve endings and endless cravings for red meat.
And now you’re here. You’re firmly in the world, and nothing in the known universe can change the fact that you were born on December 19th, 2013, at 1:44pm to a father wryly anticipating his third daughter and a mother so desperately happy to meet YOU in whatever shape you chose. Nothing can change the fact that you, as a quite-nearly one year-old, love bananas and hate sleeves. Or dig your cats but go positively Beatles-era bonkers for the arrival of your Dad. Or raise your arms at the first beat of music, rhythmically lower them to suggest that someone should dancedancedance around the room with you, and stare people down until they do just that. Or have figured out that the sign and vocalization for ALL DONE can apply to so many situations throughout your day.
Unfortunately, as you’ve also figured out, telling people that you’re ALL DONE rarely yields the immediate and/or correct response you might be hoping for. This happens a lot in life, Jasper: needing someone to unbuckle you from the highchair, not liking how long you’ve been stuck in the minivan, finding yourself miles and miles from home where suddenly everyone is just so stupid…
Life can be tricky, baby boy. But the secret is to find and surround yourself with people who counteract your ALL DONE with their YOU’VE GOT THIS or, sometimes, a little bit of YOU’RE RIGHT, THESE PEOPLE ARE JERKS, I’LL GET THE CAR.
Why are people being jerks to a baby?
I can see you as a newborn. I can fuzzily remember you being placed into my arms (morphine is real, J) and thinking that no one had ever been given a more gorgeous face, intelligent brain, or generous soul. (Yes, I knew these things.) But here’s the funny part: when I see you in my mind’s eye, I superimpose the look of you now, so that I’m constantly surprised when I see pictures from those early days and weeks and months. Because that’s not you- this is you! Wispy hair curling from behind your ears like such a little boy person, chompy teeth, laughing eyes, and disturbingly strong little hands. I guess it just goes to show that you’ll always live on both planes for me; my tiny little bundle of son newness, and the current face in front of me for as long as I’m lucky enough to kiss it.
And I’ll love every version of that face, no matter where you go, what you do, or how stupid people get. Especially that last one. Just let me know.
I’ll get the car.
(Happy birthday, Jasper Callahan.)
Love,
Mom
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