You came into this world so solemn. Not a sad soul, but a quietly reflective one. Everyone commented on how quiet you were, how sober. You attitude in the womb was the same. I would put ice on my belly just to get you to move. Sometimes I wonder if you knew how...interesting your birth would be. Or if people are like cats and that birth stole one of your lives so you spent that first part of life being put out. Whatever the reason, you were so easy as an infant. I could have a million more if they were all like you.
Every morning I wake up so glad I'm waking up next to you. Your morning grin says you feel the same. Sometimes you act surprised to find us right there when you wake up. surprise followed by delight is my favorite version of you but I do wonder who features in your dreams those nights.
For the record, I was and am 100 percent fine with your being a mama's girl. It doesn't hurt my feelings when you prefer me over everyone else or when you fuss because not-the-mama is holding you. I see 16 looming in the not-to-distant future. I remember 16. I'd like to skip yours, if you don't mind. But just in case we don't, I'm going to soak up your love now and store it away for later.
I love that once you started to walk, your personality bloomed. Now that you are upright and moving under your own power, your giggles and smiles fill the room with happiness.
The baby mimic is one of my favorite stages and watching you parrot your older siblings is terrifying and a joy wrapped a bubble of awe.
Listening to you join in the singing is a riot. You are absolutely sure you've got the words and tune down but the reality is you sound like a chicken. A perfectly marvelous chicken.
As long as we are discussing quirks, every orange is your orange, regardless of who actually owns the fruit. I'd love to take you to Arizona in December and show you the groves. in the mean time, I'll just save you slices from my orange. :-)
Happy Birthday, beautiful. You are my favorite child. Don't tell the others.
