one

Last Wednesday, April 3rd to be exact you woke to your mama brightly singing 'Happy Birthday' as she opened your blinds and let the light stream in. 'How many are you?' she asks as you are placed on the change table for your new nappy. 'This many!' is her answer, proudly showing one finger to symbolise one.

It has taken me a week to work out how to say to you all the things I feel I want you to know as you turn one. This first year has been the most magnificent of learning curves for your Papa & I. I find it hard to imagine my life without you, I feel as though you have always been here with us. I struggle to picture our house without your squeals of delight and angry grizzles when something doesn't go your way. Your smile is quick and bright, your golden strawberry curls give me such joy and you make me swoon when your big baby blues turn my way as you attempt to flutter eyelashes so long they astound strangers in the street.

You are so pretty those same strangers still confirm you are indeed a boy, then exclaim your eyes confused them! It amuses me, as you are a boy in every sense of the word. On walks you must inspect every car that passes, we will deliberately get to our destination late just to follow the bus trundle along the road. You need to investigate anything and everything, spin it around in your hand and check to see if it makes a sound when you crash it into the ground or bang it on something. If a sound is made, it is repeated with gusto until something else catches your eye.

At one, you are a speedy crawler but not yet walking. Despite your first steps weeks ago, no attempt has since been made. I constantly marvel at your pace when you want something - your limbs become a blur. You are tall and slender with an appetite that shocks your grandparents as they watch you devour enough food for an army. At one, your best friend is the neighbour's cat Milly and your favourite past time is stalking through the backyard with her as I peg out the washing. You find it mildly offensive the pegs should be trapped in their container and aim to liberate them as often as possible. You can pick up any object no matter how small, and recently added picking up a second or third object with the one hand to your repertoire. You call me Mum-mum & your father Daada and if I check your nappy you will say 'caca' if you have indeed left me a surprise.

At one, I am your favourite person to snuggle and you love your Papa taking you on adventures downstairs. Getting out and about in the car or stroller makes you happy and we have begun frequenting the local playgrounds. You love having a piece of toast in our favourite cafes while I have my coffee - you are my preferred breakfast or lunch date. You make me laugh out loud several times a day as you crack jokes and play games.

At one, we are starting to wean slowly and gently although you are yet to turn down the breast if offered. I suspect we will enjoy our little feeds for a while yet! You are a random sleeper during the night, sometimes making it through and other times not even close.

Perhaps what I want you to know the most though, is that - at one - you are our joy. Thank you for you.