Surly Samson

Dear Samson,

This is a picture of the time that we first met, face to face:

The occasion was much more dramatic than we had expected, and the next few weeks and months were very difficult for us all, but at this moment, your dad and I were bursting with joy and relief that you were with us, kicking and screaming with your tiny body that was not yet really ready to join the world.

It's been 365 days since this photo was taken and boy, have you grown! You're now over 21 pounds and 29 inches tall. You crawl like a commando, you swig from a sippy cup, and your current mission in life (besides consuming all bite-sized objects) is to stalk kitties. You sleep all night (usually) from 7:30p to 6:00a like a big boy in your own room. It's almost impossible to tell that you were ever anything but perfectly healthy; only the little IV scars on your ankles and arms give a hint as to how you lived your first few weeks.

Everywhere you go, people notice you and comment on how big you've become and how very handsome you are. They say you look just like your mama or just like your daddy, depending on which one of us they know the best. They also say that you're an old soul with very observant and curious eyes that seem wise beyond their age. Recently, a burly punk-rock chick behind us in line for a half-hour said about you, "I don't even like kids, but this one's pretty cool."

You adore:

feet, especially toes
dogs, and you giggle whenever you see a real one
cats, which you will tackle if they allow you to get close enough
tickles, especially under the arms
Mama, pretty much 24/7
Daddy, especially when he arrives home from work
PawPaw in his red shirts
whiffle balls to chase and crash together
swinging in bucket swings
drinking Mama's milk
eating anything that you can feed yourself
brushing your teeth
smiling for people and cameras
songs with hand motions and sound effects, especially Itsy Bitsy Spider, Wheels on the Bus, and Sammy-Pie (sung to the tune of "Lollipop, Lollipop")
Moose A. Moose and Zee, the hosts from Noggin
reading Goodnight Moon and Where's Spot?
playing with things you aren't supposed to have, like the TV remote control, the phone, and the weekend newspaper

You detest:

discovering that you've reached the end of a bowl of food
getting your face washed
having your nose picked or your nails clipped
pulling a shirt over your head
knowing that Mama is nearby but not in the same room with you

You are very sociable in most settings, but you're just now learning how to wave good-bye and hello, to give high-fives & pounds, and to kiss. Your most frequent companions of a similar age are Hayden and Samantha. You hang out with Ava, Weston, Kelly, and Owen pretty regularly, too.

Already we can tell that you have a mischievous streak that's likely to cause Mama and Daddy a few gray hairs (or more in Daddy's case). Your response to Mama's recent first attempt at discipline (saying "No!" in a stern voice with a serious face) was to laugh hysterically and immediately continue the behavior that produced the first rebuke. You also find it comical when Mama uses that same tone with misbehaving pets.

We couldn't be any more proud of you, darling son. Your existence has made us a family in ways that we didn't understand we were missing before. As each month passes, we are delighted to learn more and more about the unique person you are, finding the little bits that remind us of ourselves but being most impressed with the things that are singularly yours. Live well, Samson.

Love always,
Mama and Daddy