t h e . r i d i c u l o u s . p a n d a

so to answer that previous question, "could we possibly love you anymore, silas lee?" yes, yes and yes. eighteen months and here we are. i can finally stop referring to your age in months because you are SO OLD that years and year fractions will suffice.

we spent your second official half birthday running around your tumbling class, learning backwards rolls, earning armfuls of inky stamps and practicing your favorite new skill - shouting "ready, set, GOOO!" and then taking off at a hoppy, crooked, usually diagonal run. then we came home went for a sunny walk outside and had falafel and lentil soup with titi lisa. as we were walking back upstairs after kissing titi goodbye and throwing leaves in the breeze, i thought to myself, "this has been a perfect day."

but i have said that to myself or to you for so many consecutive days that i couldn't remember the last time i didn't feel that way. everyday has been exactly how it should have been. every night we all sleep much more soundly.

currently you are all about making decisions: whether or not we should go outside, walk or bicycle ride, which shoes to wear, which shoes your parents should wear, snack or lunch, bottle or cup, which books to read, to catch or to throw, kick or hockey stick the ball across the house, swing or slide, wood chips or rocks, guitar or bass, stir or fling, ninjas or toothpaste in the sink, read magazines or pull toilet paper while sitting on the pot, cubs hat or army hat, sweep or bounce balls.

but there is never a decision to be made when it comes to garbage trucks, music, papa, bubbles, apples, sticks, puddles, kisses, and baths. those are always a priority in your pamphlet and buddha forbid you would ever have to choose one of those above the other.

sam and i are just starting to figure out that that's one of our main duties right now, to make sure you don't ever have to pick a favorite among those things. you are the sweetest person i've ever known. there is no reason in the world that you can't have a stick, a puddle, an apple and your papa all at the same time. you have and you will.

now stuff is really going to get crazy, you're a kid. you sleep at night, you feed yourself your own food, you help set the table, you look for things you've lost track of, you sing outside the neighbor's house until she comes out. you don't need us nearly as desperately as you used to.

but we're staying put. in it for the long haul, the open road, the times that lay ahead. your father and i are constantly working on our relationship - staying aware and keeping each tuned in - because it so isn't about just the two of us anymore. there are three and it is all of us. respectful, dedicated and never refusing a hug that comes at you at full speed.

we love you like nothing we've ever known or felt. silas lee, crazy monkey, poop butt. happy 1.5