Dear Jack,

Today you are 13 months + 1 day old. This is the first time I've been late with your letter, but it probably won't be the last. I spent yesterday evening writing an exhaustive account of your day - something new I'm trying. But it was exhausting and exhaustive, and I decided it was probably only interesting to me. So here we are, and here is your letter.

Your thirteenth month started with your first birthday party. What a great day! We rented a picnic shelter at a nearby park and so many of our friends and yours came by to celebrate with you. Your grandparents came from Cheraw, and your uncle and cousins were here from Florida. You were sweaty and red-faced the entire time, and ate plenty of dirt before you had your first taste of cake. I think you were a little put off by the frosting on your fingers at first, but once you tasted a bit, you were all smiles. You smashed the tiny cake I baked to pieces and got us both covered in all that goodness. I was disorganized and a little frantic, but I think a good time was had by everyone. It was a good day.


We went to a pool playdate at Sandi's neighborhood, so you got your first taste of a larger body of water. You loved it! You kicked your legs and I even dunked you once or twice. You're a water baby through and through. I was relieved, since we were headed to the beach a couple of weeks later. We rented a lovely beach house with the Daniels family on St. Augustine Beach. The first time we walked onto the sand, you headed straight for the water, no fear and no hesitation. After you tumbled and got a mouthful of salt water, you were a little less courageous, but you kept running toward the water. You'd turn around when you noticed a wave coming, or reach up to be held. By the next day, you were back to running headlong toward the shore.


You started clapping a lot this month, and sometimes you get so excited that you scare yourself. You don't do anything small, even clapping. You got two more teeth last month, for a grand total of eight. I still haven't cut your hair, but it's pretty awesome. I think about trimming the back, and maybe I will this month. I like how it sticks out over your ears. You seem to have grown a good bit since your appointment at the beginning of June. Your shoes will be too small soon. Jason Daniels nicknamed you "Chubs" and called you Captain Caveman and Butterball. Your belly is a thing of beauty!

Here are a few things I've heard in your presence over the last few weeks:
"Oh, look at them eyes! Some girl's gonna snatch him up!" (old lady at the market)
"He's gonna be bigger than you, man." (man behind us in line, to your dad)
"That's a might fine lookin' fella." (old man behind in the produce section)
"He has no fear, does he?" (several mamas at a playdate)
"He cracks me up!" (another mama as you walked around naked at said playdate)
You're still popular with friends and strangers alike, and I still feel like part of your entourage.

It's not all easy, for sure. You are strong-willed and physically so strong and fast. I have to be very creative to get a diaper on you these days. You've started thrusting your arms straight up to wiggle out of my arms. For now I can still pick you up and wrangle you, but those days are numbered. You push every button you can find, and climb anything you can. I find myself shouting STOP a hundred times a day. It worked for a while, but I can see the effectiveness waning. I will keep trying. That's my job.

I feel in some ways that this last month was as long as your first year. A friend told me (much more eloquently) last week that God gives children the parents they need. We agreed that a more rigid upbringing would surely have broken your spirit. If that is God's grace for you, through me, I am honored.

I know God is supplying me with daily grace to be your mother. The joy is boundless, but the energy is metered in a way that sometimes amazes me. I have enough for the next step. My daily bread. There is a symmetry and reciprocity to it that maybe only I can appreciate. It may mean that our house is always a mess and I dream up projects that I won't complete for years, but I'm excited to be raising you up.

I love you, little man.

Mama