Oh, my small love. Words fail me today.

You are, officially ten months old as of less than 24 hours ago, and I sit here - in an old brick building at the tottering south edge of Manhattan dreaming of your fat, clutching fingers and giant 'yelps' of joy.

You, when not in my arms directly, are too far away.

I have a lot to commemorate this month, though your daddy did most of that yesterday here. Most notably, the fact you have learned to make a piggy face and snort - which brings you and I to tears of laughter every time and is now one of my absolute greatest joys.

But today - sitting here at this desk - all I can think is how I've changed in the last ten months. You aren't the only one learning new things every day, exploring a world previous unknown to you. You have been gracious enough to bring me with you. And in that journey, I have irrevocably changed. My very DNA must be different now, it all feels so foreign and new.

Above all, perhaps, you have made this quote truly relevant to me:

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”

I may never lead a march on Washington, or stand still and proud as tanks bare down. I mightn't ever have a show in a gallery, or write a book.

But I make you smile. I peel your nummers-grapes and jump with you on the bed. I laugh endlessly with you, and snuggle you when you make scared sounds in your sleep.

I love you in a million tiny ways. And that is the greatest, most profound thing I have ever done. And may ever do.

I love you, funny bunny.
mama