My little Merrick, my sweet, little, precious baby angel who was once pink and tiny and helpless and messed up in the skull, is today, officially, 1 year old. I’m having a little trouble believing it; the last 12 months have absolutely flown by. Flown by, I tell you. When I look at him now, all I see is big boy. He’s walking–running, even–and blabbering and he likes to have things his own way when he wants them. He has a sense of humor and he tries to make me laugh. He’s sweet and loveable and loveable and sweet. He might be a big man at 1 year old, but I could still just eat him up.