Turning One

Dear Evs, your first year went fast. But you’re still incredibly huggable.

You’re walking now like a drunken sailor. You’re talking, too, sort of. You like to say “uh-oh” in a happy sing-song just before you drop something. Your favorite phrase, by far, is “Wuzzat?” You want to know the names of everything. Birds, flags fluttering in the breeze, trucks: most of the world delights you. Yesterday, I think a half-dozen strangers told me, “Wow, your baby is happy!” You were doing back-flips in my arms, giggling at every dog, waggling your tongue in joy. You’ve still got the most incredible eyes and you know how to flirt.

There you are eating the whipped cream that your dad was making for your birthday cake. Your friends Alice and Pippa came over to celebrate, and, since you’re the second kid, I now know how to have a perfect first-birthday party: limit the guests, simplify the menu, and enjoy. We gave you applesauce muffins with whipped-cream on top, called it a birthday cake, and had a great time.

You eat almost everything. You ate soap the other day. Picked it up, took a bite, and stood there contentedly munching.

When I have to take something away from you (like soap, or a too-sharp pen or a too-dirty piece of litter), you hurl yourself down on the ground, bang your head once, and howl in terrible distress at being thwarted. Then you let me pick you up and distract you, and your immense joy returns.

You like to look out the window for birds or trash-trucks. You like to splash water, see your sister, hug your blankie, and read books — but only if you get to flip the pages in the order you choose, which is hardly ever in consecutive order.

You like to climb up on anything you can find: stairs, a bed, even a bookcase at the library. The other day, our local librarians nicknamed you “King Kong” because you almost made it to the third shelf of their bookcase before I removed you to someplace safer. It’s so exciting to watch you grow.


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