A baby no more...

Just sitting down to type this is making me weepy.

How can it be possible that a year has passed since the day we met?

I'm certain time speeds up much faster with the second child, because baby boy, my head is spinning.

I remember the first time I saw you -- you were covered in gross stuff and screaming bloody murder, but the moment you put your head on my chest you quieted down and I fell madly in love.

And when you lifted your head and we locked eyes, and I was a goner.

You are the sweetest, happiest, most easygoing little boy a mama could ask for.

From the moment you were born, you've been so easy to please.

You give your smiles away like candy and you laugh more than you've ever cried.

When you are upset, which isn't all that often, you seek solace in my arms and no one else's.

I love that you put that much faith and love and trust in me, and that I am your world and you are mine.

And much to your future wife's dismay -- I hope it will always be this way between us.

I love you so much, Jamesy boy.

I love the curls that grow around the nape of your neck and the patch of stick-straight hair on top of your head that bears a startling (and hilarious) resemblance to a toupee.

I love that you make raptor noises at me when I'm not paying you enough attention.

I love that you follow me around everywhere I go.

I love (well, sometimes anyway) that you smile at me before doing something particularly naughty -- like spitting out your chewed up food because whatever snack I'm holding looks more appealing.

I love how you adore your sister and belly laugh at everything she does.

I love your charming little smile.

I love your fat feet, and how you refuse to wear socks and shoes because I'm guessing they make you feel claustrophobic.

I love that you put things in your mouth when you want to transport them from one place to another.

I love that you are fearless (even though this part of your nature also scares me to death).

I love that you love everyone you meet.

I love that when you smell something stinky you wave your hands in front of your face.

I love that you inherited your dad's mischievous side.

I love that you'll only eat something once or twice before getting sick of it.

I love your persistence.

I love your gray eyes.

I love, love, love your wet, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

Happy first birthday, son of mine.

Where would we be without you?