It probably goes without saying, but it's on my heart tonight, so I figured I'd write it anyway.
My favorite gift this year wasn't found wrapped in festive paper under the Christmas Tree. It wasn't decorated in bows and ribbons. It isn't something that I can wear, but it does keep me warm. It won't make me smell good or feel pretty, but it does make me feel important sometimes. It wasn't something purchased at a store, although you could say we "special ordered" it. It doesn't play music or movies, although it provides endless entertainment.
As I'm sure you already know, my favorite gift is three foot tall and bursting with energy, never stops talking, spills juice almost daily, usually has a dirty face (no matter how often I clean it), is extremely talented at getting into mischief, gives sloppy wet kisses, has a crooked gap-toothed smile and holds my heart in his tiny little hand.
Being his mother is both the most terrifying thing in the world to me and the most thrilling. I don't think I've laid my head on my pillow a single time in the last 605 days without shedding a few tears over the love that I feel for him and the gratitude and awe I feel for the angel who made us a family. He makes me crazy sometimes (like tonight when it's after 11 & although he's desperately tired, he won't give up and go to sleep) but I just keep reminding myself that it's worth it for all the other moments of joy he brings. So for lack of a clever way to end this, the greatest gift of this year has been a year with him.