Happy Birthday, Baby

My boy is a year old.
No more helpless little lump.
No more confined spaces.
He's a walker.
He's a talker.
He's a mover and a shaker.
He's the cream in my decaf.
He's the butter AND jam on my toast.
He is perfection in this little body full of human flaws.
I adore him.
For as long as I live, no one will be what he is to me.