Where did my baby go? And, things to remember.

Two weeks ago, my child turned a year old. A freaking year, already. And let me tell you…that was the hardest. year. of. my. entire. life.  Also the quickest, best, most fulfilling, and most amazing.

I never want to forget his reaction this morning when we walked downstairs and turned the corner so that he saw the decorated and lit Christmas tree for the first time. His shock was apparent, but soon gave way to clapping and laughing as he reached out to touch ornaments and realized that he knew some of the characters—Mickey and Cookie feature prominently on the kid-level of our tree this year. I’m amazed that my screamer from a year ago can now recognize characters, point to them, and laugh at them appearing in his house overnight.

I never want to forget the utter joy that the noise of an airplane flying overhead brings to my child’s face. Or the straight up pointing at the sky, frantic that whoever is with him look too. Now.

I never want to forget the first time that he correctly identified items in a book. It sounds so stupid, but the joy that knowing my son knows what a fish is, or what a bubble is, is ridiculous and makes me smile every time I think of it.

I do want to forget the words to “Go Dog, Go” and the stupid Target Sesame Street books. Please.