Another year, another reminder that I have not finished your baby book. And in looking at your baby book, a reminder that you are far from the baby I held for the first time in my arms two years ago.

You are charismatic, almost always happy. Tantrums never last long despite their fierce and seemingly ominous presence. Though you’ve grown a little more finicky over the last month, you still love your food; so-much-so that I must give you a snack while I’m making your breakfast to stop you from whining. Usually it’s a banana and you like for me to leave the peel on the bottom and cut off any brown areas. Balls are your jam, you find them, borrow them, or steal them no matter where we go. Your favorite birthday gift was a helmet. You spent the rest of the afternoon on Hooper’s bike with your helmet on. You have not yet figured out how to pedal. Hooper is your idol and mentor, your best friend and worst enemy.  

You changed our lives the second you entered this world. And today, because of you, we are happier, more fulfilled, and devoted wholeheartedly to raise you with intention, humor, and a love only a parent can give.

Happy birthday, Boots.

Also, you ate part of your birthday candle.