The November 12 that you were born was pretty much the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. That’s saying a lot, because I’d had a life filled with some stellar moments up to that point. Your parents stayed with us for a few days when you came home from the hospital, and I couldn’t stop going into the room where you slept in your bassinet to stare at you.
You had a good, strong cry, but I didn’t mind when you woke the house to let us know that you were hungry, wet, or just needed to remind us you were there.
It was smart of you to be born so close to Christmas. You REALLY racked up in the gift department at your grandparents’ house. Like you cared. Though you have quite a grip on that little red stocking while your dad holds you. And you liked that shiny tree in the house, too, that your mom was showing you.
We all noted every one of your growing and learning milestones as if you were the most extraordinary creature in the world. Actually, you were the most extraordinary creature in the world. You still are. Though we can’t hold you up to a Christmas tree anymore.
Happy birthday, Daniel. I’m glad the planet is giving you lots of snow to celebrate with.
Happy Birthday Daniel!
His little foot in that photo where Terri’s holding him up to the tree is killing me. He may have been 9 lbs, 9 oz at birth, but that foot is SO TINY.