Sam {1 year}

At 1 year you...
say dada, mama, dat {we don't know what this means...possibly just a sound to make yourself known} and ball, clap like a pro, pull yourself up to standing position, have four teeth, love pushing around cars,  climb up the stairs, follow your mama all around the house, jabber up a storm with lots of expression, still have a bald spot on the back of your head, sign the word more {anything to get more food} and let anyone hold you.

We think that you...
are going to force us to increase our grocery budget {you love to eat}, will never be a vegetarian, will be everyone's friend and will give Max a run for his money when you're old enough to hold your own.

We call you....
Sam, Sammy, Samuel, Baby, Sam the Man, Koala Bear, Sam-sam and Sammy-boy

We hope you...
learn to walk soon because you're really heavy, always stay happy, don't have anymore trips to the ER, stop dropping your cup, survive Max's wrestling matches and continue to snuggle.


We love you so much, Sammy!  Happy Birthday!


In Other News

One of my favorite games to play with Max these days is "Go-up-to-your-room-and-put-some-clothes-on".  
He would be an underwear-only-all-day-every-day kind of kid if we let him. 
Rain or shine.
Inside or outside.
But we don't.
If he ever gets married, his future wife will thank us.

Back to the game...
You never know what he's going to come downstairs wearing.
This outfit is actually pretty normal...
And weather appropriate.


Usually, he'll come down in something like corduroys and a long sleeve way-to-small-for-him pajama shirt.
And I say, "Buddy, it's 85 degrees outside."
And he says, "It's ok" and runs off to play outside.

Great conversation, little man.

In other news, Max's new nickname should be "Pockets."
I just decided this.
One time, he managed to fit 5 ping pong balls {also known as soft golf balls} in his pockets.
If it's small enough to fit in a pocket, it must go in the pocket.
If his pants or shorts don't have pockets, he's not interested in wearing them.

In more other news, God is using this strong-willed/passionate three year old boy to reveal some pretty yucky pride issues in my heart.  
Maybe I'll fill you in on that one later.
Maybe I won't. 
No pinky-blog promises coming from me.

In even more other news, I'm so, so happy to be his mama.



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