You’re one. Some people say 12 months old but I prefer to throw down the full monty…otherwise I’m fearful I may be taking you to your first day of school and telling the teacher that, while you look like you’re 60 months, you really just turned 48….or Heaven forbid 192 weeks and breast feeding you until you’re 16. At some point mom and dad need to cut the cord and I say let that be one year.
We spent your birthday in Montana (or MANtana, as the locals refer to it, thanks to it’s low volume of female inhabitants) and you were both sick. Can you even believe it? Sick on your first birthday? There’s worse luck, I suppose….you could find out you have cancer on your birthday…classic Brookbank move right there. Regardless, it is as it should have been. You kept us waiting one year ago when you came into this world so it would make sense that you keep us waiting to celebrate your arrival.
On the 7th of January we opened presents for you………I mean we literally opened the presents for you. You didn’t seem to grasp the concept of wrapping paper. I’d try to get the tear started and coax you with encouraging words but in the end, you both just wanted to shove the bow in your mouth. Even after the present was open and the nice wooden train or piggy bank or loud noisy toy was exposed you still had more interest in the crinkle. That is, with the exception of Ginger…
Like usual, I slowly tore the paper, trying to entice you. I shouted your name, “Quinn!” and you looked up and I RIIIIIPPPED the wrapping paper from the box revealing GINGER THE CABBAGE PATCH DOLL and your eyes lit up and you smiled from ear to ear and it really did seem like you’d wanted it all along. We pulled out your brand new dolly that Grandma June and Aunt Katie had given you and you held it and looked at it and loved it and then we put you down and you went and played with the box while Rory chewed on her birth certificate.
Rory, the gift that sticks out to me the most for you is a plastic truck being driven by an overweight farmer, towing a pig hiding in a hay stack and a smiling cow……the pig isn’t hiding inside the smiling cow…the farmer is towing a trailer containing both a pig hiding in a hay stack AS WELL AS a smiling cow. Typing it out like that, the toy really sounds pretty awful but, truth be told, it’s kind of nice. When you press on the farmer’s hat he says something like, “Let’s tow the trailer!” or there’s the sound of a car starting or a multitude of wildlife being slaughtered. You take the truck and you crawl around with it, pushing it around, making it speed around corners and flip over and I know that in Imagination Land, the truck is on fire and the fat farmer is sizzling as his automobile is careening out of control at the hands of the giant.
Your mom and I did your one year photo today, completing the first twelve months of your monthly progression. She pulled all twelve of the images up on her computer and we looked back through the last 52 weeks (I believe my math is accurate) and laughed about how much you’ve changed. At the beginning you were just these little Jell-O gelatin blobules and then around three months you both got really chubby and then around seven to ten months you started to thin out and stretch like a piece of putty.
I try to look at your faces and see what the second year will bring; who’s hiding behind those eyes, that smile…but I can’t. I have no idea. All I can hope for is that the second year is as wild and incredible as the first one. The both of you keep me on my toes and keep me guessing and I love all the new surprises. I hope that our following year be filled with discovery, ambitious adventures and hopefully your second birthday is a healthier day than your first.
Here’s a look back at your last 12 months.