You, yes you, Ruby. What a joy to have you in our life. And what an adaptation this past year, to parenthood, to familyhood, to new extremes in scheduling dilemmas and sleeplessness and laundry to rediscovering our neighborhood, community and city through the eyes of a parent. We simply could not imagine this world without you, yes you, little Ruby Marguerite Hyland.

And how fast you change. Sometimes the change is so sudden--I look at the picture taken on your birthday and I see a new face, a new look. Or when you decided, last week, out of the blue, that 7pm was simply not a good bedtime for you anymore.

In other areas you gradually prepare us for new changes. We've seen you slowly gain more and more mobility--from rolling over onto your stomach or back, to sitting up, to going from lying down to sitting up (which I still find so cute to watch), to pulling yourself up, to cruising alongside the furniture and with your two hands in ours, to practically walking while still holding on to now just one hand. These days you get up and push yourself through the house with your walker. On your birthday Marie said you took your very first steps on your own. I can already see you running and jumping in my mind. And you will need us just a little bit less than before.

Whether the changes are sudden or gradual, one thing is true, and that is that they are constant. If I were to write a manual about everything to expect about becoming a parent, I would be sure to include that pesky little fact.

When I think back on this past year, a few things stand out. One is how our lives at 619 Vanderbilt Ave #4 have become so much more rooted in the local community. People we pass on the street remember you and want to be in touch with you. Audrey and Momo at Joyce's Bakeshop have seen you grow from even before you were born. We met Michelle with little Posie and 3-year old Millie while hanging out there and have since become friends/playdate mates. Brian, with his dogs 3-legged Freddy and Harry, from the laundry where you often go on Sunday morning with your dad, calls out your name on the street. Wayne and his son William from the community garden came to your birthday, as did Demi and Shade from the store downstairs. Cathy from Le Gamin stops by the say hi even if the restaurant is packed for Sunday brunch. The cashiers at the Met know your name even though we don't know theirs. Sometimes we bump into Alexis, from the Park Slope Food Co-op, who lives in our neighborhood. You have made us realize how wonderful it is to want more than just a passing hello from the people with who we share lives, jobs and families on our street and in our neighborhood.

What stands out most obviously is how amazing it has been to watch you become you, yes you. Your little person is filling out, gaining mobility, gaining facial expressions and words, expressing wants and needs and emotions. And we are the lucky recipients of all that. The joy when you see our cats Dreyfus and Two. The huge grin on your face when you learned how to turn around and crawl off the bed backwards--and then the realization that you'll grin at this skill every single time you execute it, months later still, as you remember the fun we had teaching you that. You seem to still to be excited about sharing that moment of discovery, and what a gift that is. The tears of frustration when we change your diapers, although sometimes you will be calm if we sing you the diaper dance song while putting you, yet again, over and over, on your back on the changing table.

I could have had the worst day at work ever, but when I see your face light up when I come home, and I see how much you loved being with your dad or Marie while I was away from you, all is forgotten and I know I'm home, with you, yes you, forever. Thank you my darling Ruby for being you, yes you.