On a chilly morning this December, you, my littlest bird, woke up and were decidedly 12 months old. I tried to best prepare my mind for that fateful Wednesday, but it shook me awake: you are one, you are one, you are one, the world said.
You have become so many things in one year — brave, sensitive, mischievous, curious, clever, friendly, and strong. You make my heart soar every day. Your dad says to me almost daily, “Thanks for giving me that Carter.” We love you immeasurably.
You had a puppy party. You so love dogs, it seemed appropriate. (I considered a ball party, as that’s probably more accurately your first true passion.) A house full of Hoot Owl-lovers gathered.
And ohh, the cake-eating. Uncle Matt said it was the best first-birthday smash he’d ever seen. I have to agree. Seated in your thrown, you lifted that smash cake right up off the table, plate and all, your eyes nearly the same blue as the frosting that covered your face.
You decided that while it was your birthday, you might as well go for your first kiss. You couldn’t take your eyes off of 16-month old Alexa, or her potato chip for that matter. Later, you gave her scandalous open-mouth kisses as she left.
You were so taken by the balloons Aunt Michelle tied to your presents. For days afterwards, you’d roll around in the strings until they were attached to you and take them everywhere you crawled.
Thank you to everyone who came. Baby Bird, you were so excited to see so many friends. You sure are one loved little munchkin.
Happy one year to you, our little mister. Thank you for a year of adventure and wonder. Try to slow down a little.
Always with love,