I shame the matriarchy

happy birthday, Little Boy!

(what, you were expecting some lengthy harangue about BDSM and feminism? maybe later. for the moment, I got more important things to do.)

at this time last year, I was in labor with you. that was quite a ride.

at about four in the morning, my water broke. I said to your father "honey, I feel kind of strange. do you think it's time?"

and your father threw up all over his shoes. that's how I knew it was time. so off we went. fourteen hours of screaming for my mama later, there you were.

you were really small. and really hungry.

and now you're bigger. and still pretty hungry.

so, now, you're some 15 pounds heavier (oy!) and, I don't know, like four or five inches longer, and you have three and a half teeth.

your fave raves:
nursing
sleeping
knocking down blocks
the color red
things that crinkle
things inside things
banging on the xylophone
crawling
mom
dad

turn-offs:
putting clothes on
taking clothes off
your snowsuit (we call it the NO-suit)

and that's about it. you don't walk yet, or do any fun tricks, but you do know three words: mama, dada, nurnurnur (nurse). and that gets you by.

you've turned me into a total duct-tape mom, though. I like carrying you around with me everywhere. You ride around on my back all the time. we ride the bus together, go to work together, walk to the market together in all kinds of weather - we even walked up and down the las vegas strip together in December. (You were not remarkably impressed. Mostly, you slept.)

before I get all sappy and disgusting, let me just say (of course) - your mom and dad love you VERY MUCH.

oh, and one other thing:
there's this little boy, his name is Phin, he's about two, his mom works at the same place I work and he comes to work with his mom all the time. about three months ago, Wolfie was crying for some reason (I think he smacked his head, or was lonely, or swallowed a bee or something...kidding, kidding...), and Phin had this great deep moment of empathy - you could totally see the compassion radiating from his adorable little head, it was crazy - and he patted Wolfie really gently on the head, and said

"it's okay, Wookie, don't cry."

so, now, all your little friends call you Wookie.

Wookie Parsons, ladies and gentlemen!

(and may I also include a big huge mooshy wet kiss to Rootie, who helped me get through the first few months without jumping off a bridge. I will always love you for that.)