Dear Babygirl: You are 1

Dear Babygirl,

We bought you a balloon yesterday, and you kinda hated it.

You squint by raising your upper lip and scrunching your nose in addition to narrowing your eyes, so when it’s bright outside we can’t stop giggling. We now have 5022 overexposed photos taken in our back yard of primarily your front teeth.

You have the scrawniest little chicken legs and huge round eyes.

You have three laughs – chuckle, giggle, and belly.

You chuckle every time you see a stuffed animal, see a photo of a stuffed animal, see a real animal, or your mama puts something on her head or holds something in her teeth.

You giggle when I make the screeching-wheels-car-crash sound, the dog throws around one of her toys, or the door opens and you see the back yard for the first time in more than 15 seconds.

You belly laugh, well, only when Daddy is around. (He has magical powers.)

You regularly sign “eat”, “more” and “all done”.
You can wave, say “uh oh” and clap.

You can now climb stairs. (Sigh.) Both up and down. (Double sigh.)

You would much rather hand your food to someone else and watch them eat it, especially the dog, than eat it yourself.

The only food we have ever fed you that you didn’t like was watermelon.

You can sing when we sing and laugh when we laugh.

You can open the door, and close the door, and open the door, and close the door, and open the door, and…

You know which toys are yours and which toys are the dog’s.

You look at me inquisitively if anything is different, and notice immediately if I’m wearing a hat, wearing something with a drawstring or a big zipper or large buttons, or have on a watch.

You have 10 teeth, and no idea how to use them.

Daddy taught you how to splash your feet in a puddle a couple weeks ago, and now all you do in the bathtub is splash splash splash.

You really like Dora and Chuggington. Not much of a fan of that Daniel Tiger fellow. You are ob.sessed with Toy Story. We might need to send you to treatment.

You will eat a meal in any location – highchair, car seat, living room floor, Target shopping cart – as long as there is food involved.

You spilled my protein shake this morning, then my entire water glass, then flipped over the dog’s food bowls, then broke that small frame that sits on the side table in the living room for the 22nd time, all within the first 90 seconds of being awake.

The dog’s water bowl is your favorite thing to pounce on the moment you are set down on the floor. If we are upstairs in your room, that thing is your nightstand lamp. Girl, you are infatuated with turning your lamp on and off and on and off and on and off.

A few weeks ago you figured out that pressing the round button on my phone gets your photo to pop up. You are safer with my iPhone now, as instead of trying to eat it or throw it, you now carefully press the button with a pudgy finger, giggle and lightly shake the phone with delight over the darling little girl smiling back at you.

You know that when crawling on cement, pointing your toes is necessary to keep from scraping your piggies.

You try to leap off the changing table and run away naked the moment your dirty diaper is removed.

You dance the moment any music plays, which mostly involves wiggling your head back and forth. Sometimes it also includes waving your arms in the air.

You think juggling is the funniest thing you have ever seen.

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We bought you a balloon yesterday, and you kinda hated it.

It was hilariously endearingly awesome. Just like you.

Happy birthday, sweet pea.

Love,
Mama

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For more in the Dear Babygirl series: Letters to my Daughter

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Tagged as: Lil Sorensen, letter, musings