Last week, Mama’s co-worker told her that she hoped Michelle realized that the one year old’s birthday was really for the four-year old. That indeed proved to be the case, but it didn’t dampen anyone’s enthusiasm. At least this year, you were more than happy to share to the spotlight with your big sister.
I could rehash the past year and talk about all the usual platitudes (it went too fast, you are adorable, we spent so much on bourbon), but let me just tell you about one thing in this last letter. Your smile.
In the past three months, as you’ve moved beyond a gurgling, crying bauble of flesh into a tiny, semi-mobile person you’ve frequently found the world, even at its most mundane, quite funny. I hope you never lose that talent, it will serve you well.
The smile is a work of art that perhaps only parent could love. Indeed, around here we call it the ‘Daddy face’ as there are copious anecdotes and even a few fading photos of your old man sporting a suspiciously familiar grin. Any questions of paternity would be short-lived.
Raising a family is not easy and it is certainly not stress-free. There are times when the whining, crying and squeaky toys (that last one is Dash’s fault) have me contemplating a padded room. That is when you have often come to the rescue lately. Dust balls? Cheerios? The indignity of diaper changes? It’s all just humorous fodder. That goofy, scrunched up grin and chuffing laugh could slice through the hardest heart and make any burden as light as a feather.
I would recognize that smile anywhere and I always will.