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This week, the first full week of the new year, you were twenty-one-and-a-half months old.

You seemed to be more delighted by songs than ever. You often sang “Happy, happy, happy!” This week, you danced with your whole heart, and sang even in the dark.

This week, you spoke new words, and pored over books new and already loved.

This week, you were thrilled simply to be walking along streets and sidewalks, mostly free of anyone telling you what to do or where to go.

This week, you learned to kiss, and kissed me right when I needed it most.

This week, you comforted yourself when you missed someone. And you missed me when I didn’t think I’d be so missed.

This week, despite a recent phase of fears of abandonment, you went to daycare as you always do, with no fear, and with trust in your heart.

This week, you kept giving us those wonderful hugs, so tight and long and full of love.

This week, you often made me really laugh.

This week, you fell from a bicycle and wanted to get back on again.

Many things will change. But I hope that, in your heart and soul, you’ll face and experience all the weeks of your life like this one, the first full week of the new year, when you were twenty-one-and-a-half months old.

is a writer & worrier. She lives in Paris with an eccentric Frenchman, a clever toddler, & a charming cat. Besides them, she loves books, travel, & cookies.

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