Dear Jadyn,

Last week, you were busy receiving many presents and shoving large quantities of frosted cake into your face, and I was busy trying to figure out where the hell the past year went all of a sudden.

As I mentioned in a previous letter, you and I didn’t exactly hit it off right away. Your arrival reminded me that newborn babies have very few redeeming qualities to list on their résumés. One-year-olds, however, are quite a different story.

Did someone say “absurdly cute”? Well, if not, allow me: you, Jadyn Genevieve, are absurdly cute, and getting cuter with each passing day. What’s more, I’m pretty sure you know that you’re cute, and are now purposely hamming it up by making some intentionally cute and funny faces … like this one:

Your summer wardrobe has only accentuated your cuteness, particularly your little bathing suits, which, when worn by you, make the term “absurdly cute” seem like a gross understatement.

You are very close to walking, you’ve cut three teeth, and you have a handful of words that you are using regularly and appropriately, to include: “Hi”; “Thank you” (which you say just about any time someone hands you something); “Bye-bye”; “Mommy” (which you still use interchangeably for both your mother and I, though you have finally begun saying “Daddy” the past couple of weeks); and “Baby” (which you usually say whenever you see one, or whenever you pick up one of your dolls).

You are excellent at playing catch. When I sit on the floor with you and roll you a ball or drop it in your lap, you grab it with both hands—a move often accompanied by a huge smile and squeal of delight—then raise it above your head and throw it back to me with surprising accuracy. I was banking on Zack being the star baseball player, but who knows, eh?

You are very snuggly and affectionate, which I love. Often, when I am seated in a room with you, you will come over to me and lay your head on my thigh while you hug my legs. And speaking of hugs: you give great ones. When I pick you up out of your crib and you lay your head on my shoulder, wrap your little arms around me and pat my back with your little hand, I am only just barely able to keep from melting into a giant puddle.

Like your brother, you are a ridiculously early riser, and are awake in the five-o’clock hour each day. Unlike your brother, you are able to go to sleep alone after being placed in your crib awake, and are quite content to roll around, play and babble to yourself for an extended period of time after you’ve woken up, two skills that your brother does not possess.

You have your fair share of shrill, cranky moments, which are often extremely grating on those around you who have a low tolerance for screaming, crying babies—me, for example. Still, at this point in your life, those moments are relatively infrequent, and you spend a great deal of time just being a sweet, happy, easy-going baby girl. If you could please maintain this demeanor straight through adolescence, I’d really appreciate it, OK? Thanks.

So, about your birthday: you, like your brother, had three separate birthday celebrations this year, the first of which took place at M-M and Popop’s house in Pennsylvania. There, you were presented with a piece of your first-ever birthday cake. What you were not presented with, however, was a utensil with which to eat it. Anxious to taste your cake, but reluctant to dirty your hands with it, you did some quick problem solving, and came up with a solution that involved opening your mouth, leaning forward and pressing your face into the cake. Very ladylike.

Birthday No. 2 took place on your actual July 12 birth date, which we celebrated at our house along with Nana and Uncle Jason. You decided to rescind your self-imposed no-hands rule for the occasion.

The Big Birthday Finale happened in our backyard last Saturday, where we had a large party, the theme for which was “The Wiggles,” a group that Zack has mostly outgrown, but that you are in the early stages of adoring. Mommy, as usual, outdid herself by not only obtaining every “Wiggles”-themed birthday-party item under the sun, color-coordinated balloons and a “Wiggles” birthday cake, but by also drawing life-sized cartoons of several “Wiggles” characters, which Uncle Jason subsequently helped her paint. (A big shout out to Uncle Jason, y’all.)

Much to our relief, you were showered with oodles of toys, and thank god for that, because, by golly, if there’s one thing you and your brother need more of, well, it’s toys. My hope is that one of them will end up being a collector’s item in about 17 years, at which point we can sell it off to fund your college education. Hopefully, the prize toy won’t end up being stepped on prior to its sale—a very real danger, since there is scarcely a 6-inch-square parcel of floor space in our home that isn’t occupied by some sort of plaything.

I’m considering placing in next year’s birthday-party invitations the following obituary-inspired request: “In lieu of more toys, the family has asked that you please make a deposit in Jadyn’s 529a account.”

Next year’s birthday is a long way off, however (though I’m sure it won’t seem that way when it suddenly arrives). In the meantime, I couldn’t be happier with how you’ve turned out after one year here with us, and I am very much looking forward to seeing what you’ll do in the year to come.

Happy Birthday, my little red-headed princess. I love you.

Love, Daddy

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