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One year ago today, I met a nice man named Andrew who pantsed me on Flatbush Avenue. A few minutes later, I met Theodore. It was the craziest day of my life.

While I haven’t seen Andrew since (Thank goodness! Though I am vaguely curious as to where my pink and white undies went), Theo has been by my side, on my boob, carried on my chest, and snuggled in my arms ever since.

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I sang Happy Birthday to the little one, as he stood in his crib, ducky in hand. And the whole fam opened gifts before breakfast. (Cake and hoopla to come.) Then, after Theo went to bed for the night, Nate and I went out for a celebratory dinner. While it’s technically Theo’s special day, Nate and I felt an overwhelming need to toast each other.

We made it. I’m not sure how, but we did. And we are pretty damn proud of ourselves—and our son.
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