For one more day, I can say you are eleven months old. I've been meaning to write to you all month, but I kept putting it off. I'm in a little bit of denial that you're turning one tomorrow.
This has been such a sweet year, and your eleventh month has been no exception.
You are saying "Mama," "Dada," and "more." I love hearing you call me "Mama" knowing that you are purposely saying my name. Dada feels the same way.
Jane, you are becoming such a sweet little girl. You are so curious and find great joy in simply exploring our house. Though it makes my stomach turn, it is probably worth noting that you are particularly fond of the screw cover at the bottom of the toilet. More than once, I've had to wrestle that out of your little hand. Much hand washing follows. (I really should glue that screw cover down, huh?)
While you were learning new words and becoming ever more mobile, we celebrated your first Christmas. You loved gazing at the Christmas tree covered in lights. Of course, you also relished grabbing ornaments off the tree.
Tomorrow will be bittersweet for me, my sweet girl. This year has gone much too quickly.
But for today, you are still eleven months. And remember, no matter how old you are, you'll always be my baby.
I love you, my little Love Bug!