Is it okay if I call you thirteen months old? Because just saying "one year" doesn't do you justice at this point (and it also freaks me out because seriously? a year already?).
I'm not sure when personality hits in full for little kids, but yours is up and running. Birdy, you are a ridiculous goofball. Whenever I take you out and you get to see new people, you turn into this friendly monster, grinning and waving and making smush faces at them. (What's smush face, you ask? Here:)
You "get" things now. You understand that the little plastic tea pot is for filling little plastic tea cups (and anything else that has a space where tea can hide, including hats). You have figured out that the cat will let you pet her if you approach her quietly. You know how the tv remote works. You have mastered the concept of "extreme splashing" in the bathtub (soaking me to the core). And you've finally figured out that the insulin pump is attached to mama, and you can't take off with it too quickly or I yelp.
This month, you and I spent our longest time apart so far, when Daddy and I went on vacation. We missed you so much and we loved Skyping with you every night, so we could see you playing and smiling even thousands of miles away. (Modern technology is amazing. And by the time you read these letters, I'm sure we'll be able to send our words to one another through fiber optic thoughts or minute radioactive hamburgers or something.) While it was nice to spend time with your Daddy, we were both so happy to see your face and give you snuggles when we came home.
You're starting to expand your vocabulary, in weird little ways. We know "kitty" and "duck." And "bottle." (You say "bot," but it's close enough.) "What'sdat?" And you looooove balloons, chasing after their strings as they float around the kitchen, shouting "Bra!! Braa!" (Yes, you call balloons 'bra.' This may be a source of confusion for you as you age, but for now, we're going with it.)
Kid, you are a total trip, and my best friend. Your hugs are the softest. You have this mess of curly hair, the origin of which baffles me. You sniff the flowers and chase bugs and dig in the dirt, all while sporting a grin. And you laugh at your own toots.
I love you, I love you, I love you. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, and the happy you make me knows no bounds.