New Year. Blessed Beginnings.

On the first of the New Year, you woke up two hours too early. I pulled you into my arms in our tiny little beach house and you slept on my chest tossing and turning and smiling every time you caught my eye.

You're getting pretty cuddly in your old age.

I didn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about how this was the most incredible way to begin the new year. I tried to slip a sweatshirt on you so we could sneak away for a walk on the beach.

It took some convincing as your toddler brain entered a very irritated state. The minute you set foot on the sand you took off running in a dead sprint with no real destination. I laughed and ran with you. We passed the early risers, the ones who are called to the ocean first thing in the morning. I felt connected to them.

I have always been drawn to the ocean.


You walk with true confidence. Your shoulders are back and your head is high and you aren't afraid of anything. It's something I deeply admire and am terrified of in the same sense. You laugh anytime you hear someone else laugh. It makes us laugh to hear you laugh when you hear someone else laughing.


You smile all the time. And I mean all the time. You have a tiny gap in your front teeth. I LOVE that tiny gap. I hope you never want to erase it.

You're sweet. You are SO SWEET. You love hugs and kisses and cuddles and you LOVE making people laugh.

You have a serious side. And by serious I mean brilliant of course. You catch on quickly. You catch on the first time. It's frightening and awesome and it keeps me in check. I know your tiny brain is taking it in every minute, every word, every action.

You LOVE your Dad.