Happy birthday, my dear baby boy.

My dear baby boy,
Last year this time, I was just getting to know you; Counting your fingers and toes, memorizing your face, and wondering what you would be like once your personality starts to show.
You are a loving, lovable boy. On the days that I work, I would step through the door and see you dropping anything you were holding, your whole face blossoming into a gigantic smile, walking as fast as your legs can carry you (at one, you can't really run yet), coming towards me with an enthusiastic "[h]i~~~~~".  It was one of the best sights and sounds in the world. When we are playing at home, you'd be off on your own for awhile, and then run towards me with your arms outstretched for a "mommy recharge". I love to crouch down to your height and let you plunge into my arms for a tight, tight hug.
You are so small and so young, but you demonstrate such interest and curiosity towards the world. A ball and a bucket, light switches, an open window, the thermostat, a water bottle, my kindle. Any thing can spark  and hold your interest for a long time as your chubby fingers touch, feel, grasp, turn, and flick in all ways imaginable. Every time someone starts to play the piano, you'd run right over to it, tip your toes and reach up to play a few keys. Just a few keys, and you'd come back to the rest of us happy. And books. Oh my do you like books. You vie for your turn when we do bed time readings with your sisters, thrusting a book towards us, pointing at it, opening the pages, demanding that it be read to you now. When we comply, you settle down with a huge grin on your face, happily follow along, looking at the pictures and help flip pages.
You love to play with water, too. Every time I draw a bath for your sisters, you'd race to the side of the tub. You'd reach for my hand for support, and then lift up your chubby leg that is still shorter than the side of the tub in an attempt to climb into it. I could never strip you fast enough as you try to get into the water. Water over your eyes or ears bothers you not. The one day that the weather reached the 80's, I pulled the kiddie pool out. You did not wait until it was filled or for me to take off your shoes. In you step to your sister's delight, onesie, diapers, shoes and all.
You know how to ask for help. You would ask for my hand for support or so that you can take me to where something is out of reach. You would tug at my shirt and than point to my mouth to ask to be nursed. You would take your father's hand to pull something that was stuck fast out so that you can play with it. In this way, you are constructing sentences.
You also know how to say no. You'd brush a hand away, push your sometimes overly passionate sister further, or shake your head vehemently at an unwelcome spoonful of yogurt. Determined, that you are. Determined on your preferences, and determined to do things yourself in your own way. You are learning to climb steps. But instead of climbing the stairs on your hands and knees, you'd rather grip tightly on my hands and scale it. Each step on the stair is higher than your knee. Fazes you not, though. Well, you are a child who was impatient with crawling. And I will not be surprised if one day you decide to bend down and do a forward roll.
All too soon, you are one. I held your hand as you lay beside me and nurse, with your legs tucked, you fit right into my curve. Disregarding those rules on nursing, I made a face at you and watch as your eyes sparkled and the corner of your mouth lift into a smile. All too soon, these moments will be but a memory. But you will be running, jumping, talking, laughing, exploring, learning, growing, and fascinate and amaze us with all the wonderful things that you are and do. We love you, baby boy. Happy birthday.