Well, kiddo, we did it -- we all survived your first three weeks of living with us, and none of us are all too worse for wear. I know it can't have been easy for you, moving into a house with your Mommy the giant goober who suddenly got stuck on stupid and your poor long-suffering Daddy, but I have to tell you, you've been handling it like a champ and everything has been that much easier for us because you are so many kinds of awesome.
I can't believe how much has changed since you moved in. When you got here you were this wee little baby, so small and strange and foreign to us, and already we cannot remember a time when you were not a part of our lives. Your clothes and toys and stuff are everywhere, and it is always a special surprise when we find things in places we never suspected -- like the other day, when I found a pair of your socks in the refrigerator. (I didn't tell Daddy about that, so let's keep it our little secret, OK?)
Now, with only a few days left before your first birthday, it's like you're not our baby any more, but our little girl, our little person with thoughts and ideas and a mind of your own. Every day you try to do more and more things by yourself. Last night when we were with Nana Robbie and Pop-Pop for dinner, you wanted to feed yourself chicken and mashed potatoes and macaroni & cheese, and I'm pretty sure that's why you didn't eat very much for supper -- because no one would let you.
We worry, you know. You see Mommy and Daddy doing things, and you want to do them too, and that's completely normal, but we're not sure you're ready yet. We'll try to be better about giving you your independence, but please try not to grow up too fast, OK? Yesterday morning you were crawling around under the dining room table, playing with your buddy Owen and nomming on your own feet, and by the end of the day you were walking all over everywhere, and Mommy could already see you running off to college, and I'm just not ready for that yet.
Of course, you're an absolutely brilliant child, and I'm sure you've probably figured out by now that Mommy has a special talent for making mountains out of molehills, even if you don't know precisely what that phrase means yet. And so I hope you understand why I feel a little bit panicked when I look into the future, and after I waited so long to be a mother, to have a little person who needs and loves me, I can already see you growing up in front of me. It's very weird.
So I hope you will continue to indulge me for a little while longer, when we have our afternoon dance times, and when snuggle with you in my bed before and after naptime. I know there are so many other things you would rather be doing, like reading your Bee-Bo book upside down and playing the xylophone and pulling on the cat's tail and becoming President of the United States, but spending time with you is a kind of a big deal to me, and I want to do it as much as possible.
And when you see me with a goofy look on my face, halfway between total bliss and complete devastation, I just want you to remember what the Carpenters sang, long before you were born, but which explains exactly how I feel about you coming into our lives: "Everything I want the world to be / Is now coming true especially for me / And the reason is clear / It's because you are here / You're the nearest thing to heaven that I've seen."
Yeah, I know I never make any sense. But I love you anyway.