For Rex’s First Birthday
Sunday, 18th May, 2003

What special gift can I bring you, my nephew, a buachaill, my fine young lad, beautiful baby, first-born of my handsome brother and his beautiful bride?

What may I offer you that will stay with you forever, proof of my love, a gift not broken, discarded, forgotten in the left-behind years of childhood?

I will tell you of your first year, little one, of the months and weeks and days, the hours and minutes and seconds since you arrived among us.

You were welcomed with perfect love, whole and healthy and lovely as the springtime month in which you were born. Your crèche was filled from that first day with gentle hands eager to hold you; you have yet to meet a stranger.

And yet you are not fickle; your smile dawns brightly across your face in happy recognition only for those of us whom you already love. Your grandfather dotes on his son’s son. Your father’s nieces cradle you tenderly.

I gather up and store the special smiles that are just for me in the treasure trove of my heart. You lay back, arms casually thrown behind your head, every inch the little laird already.

You were one of those blessed babies who is truly beautiful, like your father was at that age as well – strangers would stop to gaze and comment at the pleasing prettiness of your features.

Your first November, you were baptized in your namesake grandfather’s 82 year-old christening gown; you are the fourth generation to bear the name. You didn’t cry at the cold water. You are a bold laugher, not a timid crier, and your frequent chortles of glee are infectious.

As a newborn, you were enthralled when I rolled R’s for you. You still fall fast asleep when I bounce you on my knee, you humming your special sleep song until you succumb to slumber.

Your blue baby eyes are quick and inquisitive. Your gaze is steady and alert, mental faculties already fast at work.

Your father whispers, "I love you, Rex" to you, repeating it like a mantra. It is your special talisman.

You are growing and learning rapidly – you slither on your forearms, wiggling away like a runaway salamander.

My mother, your grandmother, laughs until she cries at your obstacle course speed crawl. You pull yourself up to standing now – soon you’ll be walking, then running. You know it pleases your father, so you’ve taken to pointing at things. Soon you’ll be naming them; currently your language is a hilarious code of loud exuberant squeals.

You are flexible and have the foot dexterity of a dancer or soccer player. I’ve watched this ability with eager anticipation of future accomplishments.

Your newly arrived teeth are your latest fascination, however; you nip at all of us like we’re luscious fruit, trying to learn your world dentally. You also delight in ambidextrous throwing, asserting your autonomy and control with impunity.

You are growing bigger by the day, more boy-like than babyish now. This is you as you approach your first birthday.

Happy, happy beloved son of a happy, loving family, I wish you a long lifetime as joyful and secure as your first year has been.