Anachronistic Sofa

Dear Cormac,

I love you.

It's difficult to believe that you've already been here a whole year, and also of course, difficult to imagine life without you in it. Weren't you always here? Perhaps you were, but we just hadn't met yet. Well, it's nice to finally meet you. We've been waiting, and you did not disappoint.

Your sister is always asking me why the water swirls down the drain of the bathtub the way it does. I usually mumble something like, "physics...happen, and hemispheres have something to do with direction, I think... and fluid dynamics... are a thing..." So basically I don't know the answer. But you know, it's like, an eddy, or a little whirlpool or something. Neither one of us has any idea what I'm talking about.

You, on the other hand, do not ask me these types of questions (because duh - you don't so much speak in sentences yet), you just get really, really angry when I remove you from the tub before you've had time to splash in the few inches of remaining water, then whip your body around so you can stick your hand in that little whirlpool and disrupt the spinning.

You don't really like to talk about things. Not like Iris does now (obviously because you're not almost four years old), but not even like she did, when she was your age. Iris didn't necessarily question centrifugal force, you understand, but she still wanted to smack the bath water and demand a word for it.

You want to DO things. You are a RUNNER. I have tried several times to hold you and talk to you about your nose and your eyebrows and other exciting facial features, but as soon as I start talking and NOT providing instant opportunities for action, you look away. If it's a word that describes something that moves, you're all over it. I really do think that's the key for you. Mom, Dad, Dog, Ball, Up, Down, More: all = action words (if you consider that Mom and Dad are only classified as moving entities who fetch stuff for you).

In fact, you are such a do-er, and Iris is such a... pontificator (???), that your proclivity for grabbing and destroying all the things, ever, really freaks her out. I mean, I'm not stoked that you believe the floor vent by the back door must be removed from the duct every time you see it, but Iris is horrified that you think so. Hey, I'm not saying you should provoke her into nervous tics, just that I'm probably going to laugh about it for the time it takes me to get to you and stop you from destroying whatever it is that you're loving too hard at that moment.

Dad and I strive to hold you up, but not coddle you. We hope that you'll be savvy, but not wary. Don't be naive, but please don't be jaded. You already shine with so much kindness and wonder. Try not to let your feelings get too hurt. People will try to protect you and accidentally hurt you by doing so. Be brave, but don't dismiss your emotions because you think that experiencing them is the opposite of bravery. Listen, your parents can be paranoid over-protective crazies at times, but please don't let that deter you from discovery. You are the best of us, and we could not be more proud of you.

Happy Birthday, Cormac Michael.