Heart, Aunt Bee: Love is Like Laughter

I've just finished packing up all the presents I'm bringing for your party. Today you finally get to start talking about your birthday in terms of years.

It seems like you're taking after your Aunt Bee a bit. You've been reminding us for awhile that you're turning one.

Your new thing is to point your index finger in the air as if to say "I'm not sure if you remembered, but there's a special birthday coming up. A certain someone is turning one, you know."

I'm not sure what happened to the year. Wasn't it just the other day that you were a bug of a thing, cocooned in a blanket while I worried about whether or not my brother was ready to be a daddy? Now you're on the verge of taking your first steps and my brother is a pro at changing diapers.

Not that he doesn't beg your Grammy to change them instead.

We ask because we know she'll do it. That lady would do anything if it meant getting some more one-on-one with you.

And I know this will probably embarrass you later in life, but you're the same way. Yes. You're totally a Grandma's Boy.

If she's in the room and it's time to sleep, you don't want anyone but her. If she leaves your sight, you start bawling as though she were never returning.

You were hanging out with Grandpa and me and you bumped your head. Grandpa grabbed you and you whimpered but were fine. Grandpa sat down and you decided to be King of the Drama.

You started screaming and turning red. We tried to quiet you and I realized you were shouting at the hallway. You didn't realize Grammy was gone and you were hollering for her. I had to take you through the whole house to show you that she wasn't around before you'd stop yelling.

Which isn't to say you don't like anyone else. You remind me of your Daddy because you will smile at everyone. Even strangers. But especially with family.

And even more especially when you're in trouble. You do a lot of standing up at the coffee table. At Grammy's that means you have a lot of catalogs and junk mail and candles within your reach. Apparently, they're just so tempting you're always grabbing at something. And of course, someone is always telling you "no."

Instead of getting mad, though, you'll turn to the Negative Nancy and grin. It's funny because you don't even move your hand. You just turn with a big smile as if to say "But look at this! Aren't I adorable with this face? Do you really mean 'No?' Or do you mean 'Go ahead and do whatever you want, you gorgeous creature?'"

Of course we mean it, so we usually have to separate you from the table for a bit. You just wander, un-fazed, off to a toy that you're allowed to touch. But it's just a ploy to get us to think you're being good. Once we're not paying attention, you'll go right back to all that junk mail.

The problem with that plan is that there's always someone paying attention. Nobody can take their eyes off of you.

You've totally changed the way our family works. The television is on, but no one's watching. All plans are made revolving around you.

It kind of freaks me out to see the change in how the family acts now. I never thought I'd see your Daddy look at someone the way he looks at you. Or talk to someone in a voice like that! How goofy!

I knew Grammy would be kooky, but I didn't expect that most of our conversations would be all about you. I didn't know how heartbroken she would be when she's not able to see you in weeks.

Your Grandpa is the biggest surprise. That guy is crazy about you! He changed a diaper. Full of poo. He'll just gaze at you and tell me how he can't believe how awesome you are.

You are pretty awesome. Awesomely spoiled!

Someone's always buying you something. Or giving you a new treat. Or grabbing you for a snuggle.

You're pretty good at the snuggle when you want to be. Your new thing is to slam the side of your face into your snuggle object and pat it with your right hand. The Boy's version of the hug.

I always thought that the spoiling was going to be my job. The plan was that I would spoil you and I would be your favorite. Since everyone else is stealing my method, I'm always afraid you're not going to remember or like me so well.

Last time I saw you, you gave me that look when I showed up. You know, the look that says "Oh not this whacky chick again!"

Once I got my stuff put away, I grabbed you and tossed you in the air a few times. That always gets you laughing.

I tossed you in the air and then sat you in my lap. I would have tossed you more, but as I've mentioned, I was a little afraid of the results.

You didn't seem to mind, though. You laughed and then slammed your head down on my belly and gave it a good pat.

You like me!