A year happened Sammy W! A year of you and me and your papa. Hanging out and getting the hang. You’re 13 months already. Well, more like 14. What have I missed? You’re crawling fast and can stand now. We bought your first shoes last week. A 4.5F. You’re a climbing fiend; scaling great heights as soon as my back’s turned. You get upstairs in an instant. Behind your walker you toddle like a drunken cowboy. Can I remember a time before being your mama? Not really. Not properly. Just a time when I thought this would never ever, ever happen. I’d never get one to keep. We celebrated your birthday with two parties. One with your cousins and aunties and uncles, and another with your friends. Our house is small, so two it was.
We’re not usually ones for big occasions and you’ll never, ever remember… but we wanted to make a fuss. You bring us so much joy Sam-sam.
Your actual first birthday was a drizzly sunday which we’d kept free for the three of us. We visited the farm where you giggled at the Shetland ponies and then took you on your trike to the park. Your grin spread wide as the pavement passed below your toes.
It's not all been smiles of course. You’ve been through your fair share of unsettled weeks. You’re not such an eater anymore. Most days you’ll throw whatever I carefully prepare straight onto the floor without so much as a sniff. Cheese and fruit keep you going. You’ve developed a slow headshake for ‘no’, with your head down and your eyes looking up and sideways to me. You’ve got the cuteness down kid. When we use the word on you, you’ll work a similar heartstring. The lip sticks out first, followed by those puppydog eyes. It’ll take a second or two before your cry erupts. It’s no fun being told no, is it. For a good few months you’ve loved dancing. As soon as you hear a beat your tiny nappy-clad bottom will wiggle. We love dancing to Taylor Swift the most. Sorry son. Bed times now consist of bath, story and bottle but we’ll often hear you squealing to your Bun a good half hour after we’ve said night night. For three or four months, you and your bunny-bun have been inseparable.
I’ve probably forgotten a hundred little things you do. The way you try and bite my nose still, the persistence in pulling off my glasses, the way you scream and kick when I lie you back for a nappy change. You insist on brushing my teeth not yours. And you learnt a game with Evie that you copied at home; throwing yourself back on the sofa waiting to be tickled. You’re great at playing ball. Everything is a phone; *hairbrush to ear* ‘hello’?
Sam, your humour is peeking out more and more. Between the strops, it’s no hard task to raise a laugh. The cuddles are still few and far between, but occasionally, just every now and then, you’ll wrap those arms tightly round my neck and rest your head. You’ll cling to me when you have a fright or a fall and lean to give me a kiss. Before you go in your cot at night, you’ll calm and listen quietly to my terrible singing. You are my sunshine. I love you.