One year ago

Hey little dude. It's Pops. We’re toddling up to your first birthday, so I thought I'd mark the occasion with some of my mindless rambling. I know you're not old enough to read, but whatever. You can look at the pictures. You like pictures.

I can't believe how quickly the past year went. I know that's what every parent says at the end of the first year, but it's true. Seriously. When you first arrived you were 8 pounds, 7 ounces, with a misshapen little head. Now you're 25 pounds of peas, bananas, and cheerios, walking around with nine teeth and demonstrating how big you’ve become.

When your mom was pregnant, I remember being so nervous, so excited, and so terribly scared. Would everything go smoothly? Would you be healthy? And then I realized that I had very little control over where things went before you arrived. The only thing I could control was my intake of gin, which I did surreptitiously while your mom wasn’t looking. It never mattered – she knew as soon as she heard the sound of ice dropping in a glass that I was up to no good. Drat!

One of my favorite pastimes lately is thinking about going on an adventure with you when you're older. We could reenact Robert Persig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Or maybe camping. Hell, maybe you’ll be more into buying clothes in NY and responding "whatever, dad" to all of my questions. It doesn't really matter, just the thought of sharing those experiences with you warms my heart. Just as long as you don’t hate me.

Walking has been an interesting development. You gotta try and take it slower, man. I am fearful that you'll grow up to be a football player and I'll have to pretend I actually enjoy watching games. I mean, you do like to tackle stuff, like the corner of the coffee table. You should try not to lead with your head, though. Mom was very upset that you had to go to the emergency room. It made us look like negligent parents, and that's not cool.

Happy birthday, buddy. Look forward to many more.