My sweet Benjamin, you are such a giving child. You cuddle, love to be held, laugh softly and are perfectly content just being next to me. You are mellow and tough and what I imagine will be the strong and silent type when you are a grown man. You give so much of yourself, that by the end of the day it takes all that you have left to crawl into my arms and nurse and cuddle until you can replenish your spirit.
You have been such an easy baby amidst all the chaos in our house. It's so easy for you to not have a schedule or to get right back up when your brother or sister gets a little too rough. You are a survivor and I'm almost certain that's the reason you walked one day shy of eleven months. You had to. You are loved and I think you know it. Sometimes, I worry that we don't get enough time alone to do all of those skill building activities outlined in my parenting books and magazines, but then I hear you calling, "Allie", your first word, because you want to dance too, or I see you building towers with Martin, and I know. I know you are the luckiest of the three. You are Benjamin, my last son, the baby. You are loved.
Now that I've completed my motherly duty and told the world of how wonderful you are, I must also mention that while my world has been upside down and I was hanging on for dear life, I did have a moment or two where I was able to watch you closely and really know you. I had it wrong that first day we met. You are not simply the calm after the storm, but you are the storm as well. You see, your sister is clever and personable. She makes friends easy and jumps in over her head on most occasions. Your brother is stubborn and more determined than anyone I know. But you are patient and strong. It takes a lot to upset you and you function well out of your comfort zone. You have shown no fear and I'm afraid you don't have any. It's almost as if you've been watching your whole life, just waiting to let loose on the world. You are the storm out in the gulf, that moves slow and grows steadily stronger. I see you coming but I'm not prepared. In three very short months, you have climbed to the top bunk, scaled the playground slides, mastered jumping on the beds, hurdled the bathtub, and many other life threatening feats that I choose to block out. I'm a little scared. You are not.
So you see my sweet boy, it's only fitting for us to be here, at the beach, celebrating your first birthday. You will forever be our little hurricane. So strong and fascinating, yet, you move slow and with a strong potential for destruction. I am in awe of you and though I'm a little nervous about our years to come, I can't wait to see what beauty and excitment you bring into our lives. I love you my Benito and I couldn't imagine a more wonderful person to round out our family.