A single fabulous year of our son.

The Beginning.
I have never been skilled at telling who newborns look like. But I know I like this kid, and am going to love him and like him as long as I have breath. I am very curious what his little pre-verbal brain is processing at this moment.

July.
I have loved being a dad to one and have cherished the special relationships I’ve built with our oldest, and Becca has built with her, and we’ve built collectively, and now I’ve been so excited to see the relationship they form with each other, and to imagine and experience their journey in collaborating and clashing and sharing a world together.

August.
One of the better hugs he’s given me in his first year. As you can tell, he is literally leaping into my arms, mostly of his own volition.

September.
I don’t know the right word for this grin. If you note his hand sneakily heading under a shirt, you may get a clue as to what he’s grinning about.

October.
I love walking, and I love him, so combining these activities seems like a no-brainer.

November.
He was begging for suspenders.

December.
There is a great deal happening in this image that I appreciate. I’m hoping there’s plenty of caffeine and extra sugar in there, so maybe he’ll be able to stay up later and play harder instead of sleeping through the night.

January.
Uncontained, unabashed exuberance is one of my favorite emotions to be adjacent to.

February.
There’s a lot going on beneath the surface. The image might give a hint of the jostling that’s taking place. I have a feeling there will be some intense jostling over the years.

March.
Hot coffee in the cold snow with my warm son. This was a good day.

April.
This image leaves me gasping for superlatives to describe the beauty contained within its frame. Also, she is holding our son, and he is beautiful as well (in case you didn’t notice him initially).

May.
I think he’s pretending to be a wild creature. I’m trying to teach him that wild creatures can’t be intimidating if they grin that big while they’re posturing. He doesn’t get it.