Dear Ronan Sky,
How is it possible that you are already one year old? Wasn't it just yesterday that you shot into this world like the sparkling star you are? Perhaps the time has passed so swiftly because you are so darn fun: all smiles and pure charm. Then again, it might have something to do with the fact that you don't care for sleep. It hasn't actually been 365 separate days, just one really long one with naps here and there.
I know you'll get the hang of sleeping, eventually, and the other things you've mastered in just twelve short months are astounding. You've been walking for a while now, in fact I think I can officially call you a runner. You clap and wave and do kisses like it's your job. You say Mama, Dada, dog, woof-woof, ball, dis, dat, and "na" (which means no, Na, and nice, depending on context). Your favorite thing to do is play outside, preferably with your brother. You love to throw balls and wield sticks. Animals make you super happy. Your favorite foods are frittata, chicken, avocado, hummus, yogurt, and those strange pouches I sometimes get you for a treat. You laugh often and have what I like to call personality plus.
You have many nicknames, but the one that seems to have stuck most is Bordelaise, because you're just so delicious (and your mom is a weird foodie). You've got a mouth full of awesomely crooked teeth and you are growing the world's most luxurious mullet. You have the sweetest most kissable belly and delightfully chubby thighs. Your skin is the softest thing I've ever felt. You look just like your Daddy. You are the cutest baby I've ever seen (tied with your brother of course).
I couldn't possibly love you more. And while I'd truly like to keep you a baby forever, I adore each and every day I get to watch you grow. Here's to many many more. Happy Birthday my dear sweet boy.
All my love,
Mama
