Your dad and I, try as we might, can't remember how your gor gor Kai was like when he was one. We have pictures and some video clips, but how did he smell? What made him smile? How did he feel in our arms when we carried him? We can't remember every precious detail.
I want to remember you as a one-year-old, as clear as day, even when you are 16, 21, 30 or whatever age you are when we die. This blog entry will not capture everything that you are, today on your one-year-old birthday, but I hope it will jog up memories from the recesses of our minds.
I like picking you up after your naps because you feel soft and smell so sweet. You weigh 8.3kg on our digital home weighing machine, and look pint-sized compared to other babies. You love to watch Sesame Street podcasts on my iPad. That's just about the only thing that will keep you still for, oh well, 5 minutes.
I love nursing you. You always have the sweetest smile for me, and sometimes even a chuckle, after every feed. We'd end up giggling together, like you have cracked the funniest joke.