From Baby To Boy In 12 Quick Months

My sweet little baby boy, our surprise second child, is 1.

His new crew-cut and walking skills make him seem more boy than baby, as does his emerging personality.

My family look at Sonny and see the dead spit of his dad. His dad looks at him and sees a replica of his oldest brother. I look at him and see my grandfather, in his big happy smile, the sticky-out ears perched either side of the wide flat expanse of the back of his head, his sturdy wide-legged stance and rolling bent-kneed gait.

His personality is beginning to emerge and he really is the sweetest thing, relaxed and happy like his dad, with the most contagious smile. He’s also affectionate, and ever since he could manage it he’s been giving the best hugs in the world. One of his new tricks is to kiss my shoulder or leg (whichever is within reach), repeatedly and dramatically, like some kind of crazed chicken. He even does the mwha mwha sound effects. It’s adorable!

I keep comparing him to his sister at the same age, noting the differences and the similarities. I’m also very aware that I must enjoy this second go-round. It’s going to be the last baby I’ll ever see grow and develop at such close quarters.

Sonny is bigger than Miss M was, much bigger. She was a tiny thing, and when we took her out in public people would call her a little doll. He’s a big bruiser, as heavy as a prize pumpkin and already comfortably filling size two clothes (and some very stretched three-month size shirts). He isn’t as crowd-stoppingly rock-star cute as Miss M was but his baby-loveliness still attracts a lot of attention.

He’s more of an engineer than Miss M was. This might just be general boy-ness, but it could be more genes from my grandfather, who was an electrical engineer. This fascination with how things fit together and how they come apart means he can keep himself occupied for quite long stretches of time, unlike his sister, who needed constant attention at the same age.

Sonny’s favourite activities include putting small things into big things and taking them out again (including fitting his boy bits into one of Miss M’s purple Minnie Mouse teacup bath toys), opening and shutting draws, and putting lids on things and taking them off again. And sweeping. He just loves sweeping.

He’s also more compliant than his sister. He actually stops when you tell him no, a trait I find absolutely amazing after my first experience with a baby.

When I traveled over the past few months, I missed him terribly (after I’d caught up on some sleep, of course).

We’re doing it easier this time round, with a live-in helper who looks after him during the day and can do some evening babysitting when required. When the first baby was the same age we were in Singapore, where everything is so much more expensive than in Vietnam, so we had did it all ourselves, without any friends or relatives to call on for babysitting or sympathy.

The first birthday is a big deal in Vietnam and usually a huge party is thrown to celebrate the successful completion of one year of life. (This was quite an achievement during the harsher times of Vietnam’s recent history, as you could imagine.)

We have postponed the big party until Tet, the lunar new year, when the family gets gets together anyway. Sonny was, after all, born 10 minutes into the year of the horse, so it seems fitting that we throw a party one lunar year later, on the first day of the year of the goat.

Happy birthday, my gorgeous little pumpkin.

It’s hard to believe that only a year ago you were this tiny (and sleepy).

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By: Barbara

A career girl who dropped out, traveled, found love, and never got around to going home again. Now wrangling a cross-cultural relationship and two third culture kids.