He started out on a 3’ by 3’ square. Placed gently on his back, he spent hours snoozing with occasional bursts of bleary-eyed wakefulness. (I remember, somewhat ironically now, that we couldn’t wait until he woke up.) Tummy-time entered the fray at about eight weeks. He looked mostly like an alien being trying to lift his too-large head off the mat. On my ‘grandma Wednesdays’ we lay side by side on our backs, reading books, playing with the toys swinging above us and staring into each other’s face. Then, he started to roll.

Once he mastered rolling over and over, the mat grew too small. The mat was removed and a 6’ by 6’ quilt took its place. He rolled, scooted, army crawled and then pulled himself up against anything that appeared stationary; fellow toddlers were fair game if they got close enough to his reaching hands.

What if we had to learn all that a baby did in a mere 12 months?! The process viewed up close, even while wearing spinach-colored spit up and changing an odorific diaper, is mesmerizing. I’m convinced that a baby brain with grown up hands could master the maddening and ever-changing technology on a computer far better than an adult. (Or just this adult.)

As my never-weary grandson, also known as ‘Bam Bam’, nears his first birthday I notice that there are no mats now in his playroom. Instead, the room has been carpeted wall to wall to cover his endless movement. Words and sounds now punctuate his bellows, laughs, and pterodactyl-like grunts. Eh-fant for elephant, A-plane for airplane and ba-ble for bubbles.

I miss him the minute I leave my daughter and son-in-law’s house. I stare at his pictures and watch videos, even after spending a ten-hour day with him. He makes the world feel pure and wonderful. Birds flying overhead are cause for great discussion and endless staring. “Burd,” he says with wonder coloring his sweet voice as it flies overhead. (I do still defensively duck just waiting for that flying thing of wonder to shit on me… I’m not perfect like Bam Bam.)

As his world expands, so does mine. I appreciate every minute I spend with him. I put my phone down on our Wednesdays together. I don’t work. I simply exist to make his day, and thus, my day, fun. Each moment is directed by Bam Bam. We push cars around the room. We have dance parties. We read. We eat and eat and eat. Me, who is never late for anything, misses every class we try to take on Wednesdays. We are so busy playing and not following a clock, that I cannot seem to make it to his 50 minute My Gym class. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mind.

At the end of our day, he has sand in his neck creases, dirt beneath his fingernails, and bits of his meals stuck to the tufts of his hair. He smells like happiness and rainbows, and I can’t inhale enough of this boy.

Happy First Birthday, Bam Bam!