Happy First Birthday!
In some ways, the year has flown by. One of those is Max’s first year. It’s been, generally, a smooth, delightful road, with only the occasional bump. It’s been great to watch his personality develop, as he starts to grow into himself—from generic baby to a curious busybody. He still has those legs like a can of biscuits when you first pop them open. His blond hair is getting long and unruly, and he has several teeth that he knows how to use. Everyone remarks on his cuteness and personality—two traits he definitely gets from his mother.
Like Henry, Max doesn’t like to sleep by himself, preferring to cuddle, even for naps. He likes avocados, beans, Cheerios, and of course French fries. He has mastered using a straw, but still prefers getting milk from the source. Toys never keep his attention for long; he instead prefers anything he shouldn’t have, like Dad’s iPhone, the cabinet door under the television, or anything delicate he can smash, bend, or break. He’s not much interested in building, but revels in playing the Destructor, giggling as he puts an end to order. Max enjoys a trip in the car, as long as it’s moving. Sitting still pisses him off. He also enjoys hanging with his family outside. I love to see him taking it all in, wind blowing though those pale locks.
Happy birthday, Max. You’re a beautiful dude.