You Sultan of Silly... the King of Krazy... our very own Main Man of the Madness.
Can I just say, Wow, what a year it has been with you? On February 8, 2009, I thought you were homicidal. No, really, big man, what baby tries to arrive already wearing size 3T??? I mean, c'mon. Was being the over nine pounds things really necessary??
Sure, every single human being at the hospital gave you the automatic, hands down "cutest baby" on the premises award (and holy moly, you were), but I think you would have been just as fabulous looking (and less beat up) had you made your arrival two or three weeks earlier. Just sayin'.
But that's you, and that's who you have grown to be the past 12 months. You are in almost every way imaginable, your father's son. Not surprised, are you? From your "mean mug" to your ears, to the loyalty you're already showing to your dad, brother and I, your are P's doppelganger. And so, so cute. You manage to jam 180 pounds of personality into that 30 pound body and the results are often fireworks.You have a bond with your dad that I can hardly understand. Not that I don't "get it," I just probably scratch the surface with how deep it runs, that's all. I am a good person to have around because I am silly, I smell good, and I make sure all the food on your high chair tray is bite size so you don't choke on it when you ram a fistful down at a time... but your dad is your soul mate. And I'm okay with that, just as long as you understand, he's mine too... haha!
You walked at 10 months. Seriously. Walking like a grown man walks to the store for a beer...walking. You head butt the cat, growl at your dad, pull your brother's hair, and swipe at my face when you're in a "pistol pete" sort of mood. (Yes, that's your dad's nickname for you and it's so, so perfect.)
When you're happy, you're like an angelic little explorer off on his own, only to return when the dipey is wet or the tummy is empty or maybe when you need a quick hug for reassurance. I had a premonition you'd be an independent little spirit before you were born, and you haven't proven me wrong. And it fits, given this household.
You're not entirely fond of strangers. Not because you don't really like them, you just want to make sure they aren't one of those dreaded creatures...those..."babysitters." No, little man, you hate being babysat. I'm pretty sure in your mind it's akin to abandonment and you take it pretty personally. I don't blame you. Our family is a lot of fun to hang out with and why shouldn't you get to go see "Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief" anyway? You're a card-holding member of the Applegate clan...
You are your own person already, little Boo, and that's amazing. Some of us are still trying to nail down our own identity well into our third decade on the planet, but not you. My money is resting on the fact that when you're a teenager, you'll be difficult to peer pressure into doing things you're not really interested in, which is a rare, rare blessing. Even now, you don't move unless you're good and ready to, and not even Daddy's head butts can make you. Good on ya, baby boy. Heck, you even bawled and carried on during your little "happy birthday" party we had at the house. It's your party and you cried 'cause you wanted to...You love the "SpongeBob Squarepants" theme, having people over at our house to watch the fights (every danceman needs an audience), Reese's Puffs cereal bits (broken in half), throwing everything in the living room over the baby gate at your dad (when he's in the kitchen), drinking the milk from my cereal, and eating Boy Wonder's legos.
When you play, you play. When you rock out, you rock hard. You've already got your butt-dropping swagger dance down and you're not even out of diapers. You've got a zebra ride on toy from your Nana and you ride that pony silly...you figure things out on your own and you're already trying to live your little life on your own little baby terms. And we love it!
You're your Dad's pride and joy, your brother's best bud, and truly, one of the deepest loves of my life.
So happy birthday little Boo...the first of many, many more.
xoxo
Me
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