For Jack's birthday we tried to pack in every single thing that he loves. He had two whole eggs for breakfast. We took him to his favorite slides. We held his hand as he walked in circles around the house for hours. We went on an evening walk. Most importantly, we let him eat at least three sticks from the trees in our yard.
I wrote this whole emotion-laden post about our first year together. It was nostalgic and cheesy and you’re welcome for transferring that to a journal. Here’s what’s left: celebrating this birthday feels rare and beautiful because for the last year, our life stories were the same silly, wonderful story.
And it’s a story I’ll love to tell until my dying day because, without caveat or condition, it’s been the best year of my life.
see below for the cake smash