Year in Review

Each year, I put together a slide show after the kids' birthdays. It really is a Year in Review, and it's amazing to see how much they grow in one year. Yesterday, I did Evan's. My little guy went from baby...
...to big boy...

It is amazing to see what a difference a year makes. I love watching the highlights of the year and the major milestones. As I watched, though, I realized there are so many moments that just can't be captured in a photograph. Those are the moments that are in my memory--the moments that I hope to capture in some small way here on this blog. In that spirit, I thought I would do a mental photograph year in review for my boy here today.

For Evan:

Your love for dogs is immense. You can spot one from a mile away and life must stop until we have all admired the dog. Really, your love for animals is amazing. I love taking you to the museum. A typical conversation: "Evan, see the lemurs." "MOM! LEMURS!" This conversation must be repeated for every animal. When you can pet an animal, you are so gentle and so kind. I really wonder if you will be a vet someday.

In a similar vein, I have learned more about trucks this year than I ever imagined. Unfortunately, I only know the names that you have given them: circle trucks (tankers), round and round trucks (cement trucks), front loaders (anything with something on the front), tower trucks (cranes--because Issa thinks they look like the Eiffel Tower). I can also spot a motorcycle from miles away.

Your ability to make "why" a five syllable word is uncanny.

Your fascination with pockets is alarming. I never know what I am going to find in there. The beetle was about more than I could take. Please empty your pockets outside. And do not put living things in them--ever.

I miss your baby hair. The sweet curls and faux hawk have been replaced by a crazy series of cowlicks. I promise I will always have gel for you when you get bigger. It's the best we will be able to do. That being said, I don't think you will really care. You seem to like your hair a little on the wild side.

You are the least ferocious dinosaur I have ever met. You may pull your arms up like a T-rex, skrinkle your face up, and roar, but those ornery eyes make me laugh every time. The more I laugh, the more you roar until you dissolve into giggles. You are my very favorite dinosaur.

You know how to make me laugh and get yourself out of trouble. When you know I am about to be frustrated, you cock your little head to the side, point your finger at me with your palm up, and say, "Mommy." It's a mirror image of what I was about to do, and that crazy little ornery face, which is beyond description, dissolves the frustration. This could be trouble later.

I love watching you pull your little chicken wings up when you run. Enough said.

There is nothing better than your huge belly laugh--the one that makes you throw your head back. When you can't laugh anymore, the sigh that follows is so sweet. Pure abandon. Never lose that.

You are fearless--sometimes more fearless than I would like. I post-poned scheduling our family picture until you didn't have a bruise on your head. I eventually gave up. Your life is a series of adventures, and sometimes you get bumped along the way. It doesn't phase you, and I hope it never will. (Although, please be careful. You are the only Evan I've got.)

Your smile is a full body, whole room experience. You smile from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and I can't help but to smile with you. It's a gift, sweet boy.

Sometimes, when I am sitting by myself, you will walk over and put your arm around my shoulder. I can't help flashing forward years from now, when I am old and grey, and you come to visit. I hope you will still sit beside me, your arm around my shoulder. I will want to hear about your adventures, but there is also something magic in just sitting quietly. Just being.

I love you, little man, more than you will ever know.