Dear Swimmy Little Mr. Fish-Stream,
Today you are fifteen months old which seems very old to me for some reason. No longer a baby, you are a toddler. (A toddler who refuses to toddle.)
You've morphed from slightly and mostly shy to slightly rebellious and mostly violent but I love you nonetheless. I love you with two black eyes, a fat lip and poop in my left nostril.
It's kind of unfair how cute you are. It's unfair to me and everyone else who succumbs to your charms. Every day when I come to pick you up at th Y's daycare you are surrounded by little girls, and you with your red blankie like Linus, sucking your pacifier and watching the children with thoughtful eyes.
You have the most realized sense of humor and every morning when I'm getting dressed you lock me in my closet, laugh and scurry off to hide behind the bathroom door. You put your pacifier in my mouth and enjoy feeding me pirates booty and mini sandwiches. You're laugh sounds like everything wonderful in the world and even on the gloomiest days when I'm sad and exhausted and frustrated, your laugh makes everything go away. All the muck and the bleh and the nightmares. Like rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens but a zillion times more amazing.
I want to make a recording of your sounds and attempts at words and noises and songs and give them away to all the sad and angry people in the world so they might listen and become happy and less cynical.
Tonight before bed you played the piano. You stand and reach for the keys and bang away and make little sounds and little songs with little fingers. You play the guitar too. Your Dad or your Uncle Dave puts his fingers on the strings so that you can strum chords and sometimes you will sit for an hour straight, playing.
Today we spent the day at the Long Beach Aquarium with some new friends and you crawled through the legs of strangers and watched your fellow fishy-friends. You didn't care for them much, however, preferring above all, the giant ants, who crawled around in circles.
Today you are fifteen months and it feels like three lifetimes since you were born. You're almost a man, now. A little man with big possibilities. One day you will do great things like walk and talk. One day you might go down the stairs the right way instead of leaning and falling on your face. One day you might even call me, Mama. but for now? I'm enjoying you in every way.
Take your time, Pirate of the Snails. I adore you, snot-nosed and grumpalicious and perfect. Come now, my darling. Let us share a peach and be merry!