Oh, my. Little boy, I could have sworn that you were born just yesterday. The pictures make a liar of me, though; in a year, you've grown strong, tall, and handsome beyond anything I could have imagined. You're charming, mischievous, and confident. You're a child of capricious Eris, or perhaps a Pan mixed with Eros, with the speed of Hermes thrown in to make our lives more challenging.

You change faster than I can blink, dashing from one activity to the next and laughing all the way. When you are still, it's usually because you're learning and absorbing some new skill going on around you. You're a mimic, imitating the behaviors and mannerisms of other children in your circle with such skill that we can easily identify your playmates from the previous day.

Where did you learn to give such sweet hugs and kisses? Who taught you to duck your head, grin, and chuckle when a stranger tells you how cute you are? When you smile and roll your eyes in ecstasy as you nurse, it fills me with warmth and love; when you bounce in my arms and wave your hands to the beat of music, it makes me proud to be your mama.

A year ago, I didn't know you. I had no idea what a special little boy was working his way out of my body. I didn't know whether you'd be quiet and calm or a fireball of energy. How exciting to have both all at once! As we've grown to know each other, I begin to realize that I will always be learning about you; even at one year old, your spirit is whirling and growing so that I'm constantly finding new things to love about you.

You tell me funny baby jokes in your own, unique language. You babble at the ground, at the trees, at the radio, at the sidewalk, at the birds, shaking your tiny finger and nodding your head in a serious, oratorical way. The world excites you and makes your whole body quiver; you crawl to the window each morning and pound on the screen, shouting your greetings to the neighbors as they climb into their cars and head to work. Do they know how much you enjoy watching them? I don't see how they could appreciate your waves and yells as much as your daddy and I do.

Little boy, you've grown into so much more than the baby that I held and cuddled a year ago. Then, you were an extension of me; you relied on me for your very life, nursing at my breast and clinging to my shoulder. You were so very dependent on me that it seemed I would never be without you in my arms.

Now you play chase with me, giggling and scampering as fast as you can to get away from my reaching hands. You hide behind furniture and squeal when I find you. Dinnertimes are just as challenging, though now it's due to flying food coming from your direction instead of trying to keep my own food from falling on your busily nursing body. You love French fries (but not mashed potatoes!) and crackers, and you like to dip anything you can into ketchup or mustard. You prefer to eat with utensils instead of using your hands.

Walking is next. You've surprised us all by waiting this long, since you've been able to hold yourself in a standing position next to tables since you were only a couple of months old. Now you can stand without help, and you can push your toy lawnmower around the house at breakneck pace, but you're refusing to try to take a few steps on your own. For this, I'm grateful. Don't grow any faster than you have to, child! You're already moving so fast that I'm blinded by your speed.

Six months ago, I bemoaned the inability of words to describe just how much I love you. Spoken language is still woefully lacking to say just how deep my love for you goes. Sammy! My son! The pat of your hand on my back, the sight of your eyes piercing my own, the sound of your joyful shouts of glee, the smell of your milky breath, the taste of salt on your sweaty forehead as I kiss your exhausted, napping form - you invade every one of my senses and leave me forever altered.

A year ago, I was just Carrie. Now I'm Sam's mama. You were the one who was dependent on me, but now I rely on you. When I'm feeling sad, you hug me and offer to share your crackers. When I'm feeling lonely, you bring me your trains and run them up and down my legs until I can't help but laugh. We're growing together, Little boy. When you go to storytimes and swimming classes, I rediscover myself through your experiences, recalling the little girl I was a lifetime ago.

Will the second year fly as fast as the first? I pray not, but I'm not the one in control. Oh, Sam, you won't even remember these days that are so precious to me. You live in the moment, barely taking the time to breathe before plunging into the future. I'll breathe for both of us, Little boy, like I did a year ago.

Happy birthday, Sam.