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Dear Niko:

You are, what, 16 months old? You are rapidly growing, as they say, a full head of teeth. This includes canines. And molars. Teeth, man. I love the way you fake chomp things, snapping your head down and your mouth shut with a noise like “owm!” and then the way you grin afterwards because it’s effing hilarious. I love the way you lick things that are new, just the tip of your tongue and then the full tongue, and then you cram it into your mouth and chew away. I love the way you eat aloo mutter and chicken mukhni with abandon, even though it makes a mess. I love that you think it’s hilarious when someone shrugs in an exaggerated fashion and says “Iunno” (I don’t know), and that you do the same hands-up-shrugging thing. SO CUTE.

I love the way you hand me things and scamper off, the way you’ve started saying “tehbuu” (thank you) when we give you stuff. I love the way you run into your closet, peek at me, and then run full tilt at me to hug me, then tear off back into the closet to start the game over. I love the way you think it’s hilarious when I close your face in a book. I love the way you fake out like you’re going to kiss my cheek, and then kiss my arm instead. It was kind of gross that one time you licked me, but whatever.

I love the way you dance when I sing. You jump up and down and march in place and bounce in a circle; you wiggle your shoulders and arms and jutter your body all around. And you grin and laugh the whole time. I love the way you applaud for yourself, and the way you high-five us when you’re in a good mood. I love that you laugh when other people laugh. I love that you climbed up onto the couch twice today, and that you clambered up the stairs outside our apartment and then slid back down three of them to get to our landing.

I love the way you’re interested in forks and spoons, and eating what we’re eating, and that you wipe your face with a napkin. I don’t love that you wipe your hands in your hair, but we’ll work on that one. I love that we take you out to Golden Nugget and you eat real food so you just chow down on eggs and stuff and you’re so patient and interested in what’s going on that a handful of crayons, a paper placemat, and other patrons keep you occupied. I love that you drink with a straw, and that you drink from my glass and then from tata’s glass just to make sure one of us doesn’t have a better tasting drink than the other.

I love that you call tata papa and that you call me dada. I have no idea why you do, but whatever. Food is mamamam still. I love that you point to every ball you see and remind us that, yes, this is a ball and you love it. Oh sweet precious ball! I love that you’re picking up Srpski. It’s weird and hilarious that if I bend over you run up and head butt my butt. I don’t love it, but it makes me laugh, so maybe I do love it, and where the heck did you learn that? I love that you’re figuring out all the different noises you can make with your tongue and lips.

I love you a lot. You are so precious and wonderful, and I feel like a sap for saying it, but man it is so true.