A letter to my second son on the day after his first birthday.

Joseph,
Holy crap you are one year old already. What a year it has been. When I first met you, your mom was having a scheduled C-section. I was a little less worried and strung out than before, but only a little bit. Your C-section went a lot more smooth that your brother's did. The weird thing is that even though you two look very different to me now, when they pulled you out and handed you to me, I got a weird look on my face, like that dog looking into the gramophone tube in the old RCA ads because you looked EXACTLY like your brother did when he came out. The first words you heard me say were to the doctor: "Hey, didn't we already had this baby?"
Then we spent a few days in the hospital, which also went smoother due to the absence of a really bitchy nurse, and the fact that at that time you were so like your brother that we knew what was in store. Jen was a much more confident mother because she wasn't new to it any more, and during the last few years, the "mom" part of her personality has come front and center, and isn't likely to go anywhere. We spent our time in the hospital watching movies on the laptop rather than endlessly worrying that we were going to make horrible parents. At Your mom, being the tough girl that she is, wanted to go home long before they let us.
In this last year, you have made it very clear that those early similarities were to end very quickly. You are more daring that your brother, more hands on, and oh, so much louder. You sleep better. Not great, but nothing like Jackson's first year. You became very mobile very quickly. In short, you became your own person so fast that the constant comparisons to your brother that we all initially made soon became moot. You have a different fire in your eyes, and I can tell that you will be the devious one. You will also be the funny one. Children will get in trouble around you due to your actions, but you will be safely to the side, watching.
Because you came out looking just like your brother, we assumed you'd look a lot like him, and you do, but you also have green eyes and curly reddish hair. Where did that come from?

I love that you try to bulldoze all of your brother's belongings in that Joezilla way you have, and how patient Jackson is with you, saying: "He's just little, and still learning," when he sees that his train set in now in pieces on the floor.
I love that every time I pick you up, you go straight for my glasses, and usually succeed, which is why my glasses are hopelessly disfigured and scratched up now.
I love that look you get when you are trying not to laugh. Like you could hide anything from me.
I love that you crawl so fast, and with such determination that you sometimes run right into the wall.
I love how you always want to get into boxes, drawers, and buckets. And then just sit there.
I love that you look so much like your mom.

You are a good boy, Joseph, and I love you. Happy birthday.

-Dad.