And here I sit, one year later, with a huge little nugget sprawled out in his bed after a quick snuggle; he's become quite independent when going to sleep, so anytime he will get sweet, I'll take it. His legs now hang off the the side of the rocking chair, and his hand usually grabs onto a part of my shirt... or my hair... or, wait for it... my bra (he's such a boy); his little mouth falls open just enough so I can see his newly developing buck tooth, and his sweet little (soy) milky breath is just about enough to do me in.
A far cry from last year's inability to do, um, anything, he can now crawl faster than I can usually walk, climb stairs faster than we can chase him up them, and he just started walking with his little push toys- simultaneously thrilling and maddening as he can't figure out how to go backwards, so when he gets stuck, he just stands there and yells.
He says more than I've ever heard a one year old say, and repeats vocal inflection in a way that makes us realize he ACTUALLY understands what we are saying. He is terrifyingly smart, and I'm pretty sure it's not just because he's my kid.
A year ago, I had no idea what I was going to do for work; I now work for a company I'd always hoped to work for, and they are as supportive of my family and my title of Mama as I ever could have dreamed.
My life is a million times different, a million times harder, a million times more complicated, and an infinite number of times BETTER because MAX THOMAS is in it. I am grateful where I came from, and I NEVER want to go back to life without Max. I love you buddy.
