Tuesday, March 4, 2014

the one in which you turn five


We've made five trips around the sun with you as of today (at 1:06pm), and I really, truly am in denial. It feels like you were born maybe 3 months ago or so. Not five years.

Five feels like such a milestone to me. A self-imposed one, but a milestone still. When you were born we were living in a cute little 2 bedroom house, which we bought 2 years before you were born and without a second thought about the schools we were zoned to. Shortly after you were born, however, I distinctly remember thinking "Oh, we'll have to decide on schools, but we'll probably move before then, and he'll be FIVE. That's so long from now, no need to stress about it at this point." So I shelved the school banter in my head, and watched as the calendar pages turned. You became a big brother, mom and dad changed jobs (ok, mom changed jobs twice, but that's not the point here), the years ticked by, we sold that cute little house and bought a bigger house for you and your brother (and All Of Your Things) to spread out. And lo and behold, here we are. Five. You're registered for kindergarten and we are flying towards your first day of school in August at an alarming rate.

Every age with you has been my increasingly my favorite. I didn't think anything could be sweeter than not-quite-4, but I'm really loving not-quite-five (and after today, just five). You continue to wake up every morning cheery and ready to face the world (you've done this your entire life, I'm amazed that it's just who you are). You are sweet, and loving, but sometimes stubborn and firey. You are so tender-hearted, I ache for the day that you'll have your heart broken for real. You are a helper; your teachers, your family, your dad and I all see this side of you. If something spills, you're the first one helping clean it up (usually it's not even your mess). If a friend is feeling left out, you're encouraging them to come play. If someone missed the instructions, you're helping them to understand what needs done. If your brother is losing his everloving MIND about his Nutrigrain bar being "broken", you're right there helping him see that it's awesome to have a broken Nutrigrain bar, because now he has TWO! Nutrigrain bars.

Jude thinks you positively hung the moon. You two are joined at the hip, and it makes my heart explode into a million pieces to see your love for one another. Sometimes, I worry that you're going to break each other into a million pieces with all the wrestling, but... so far, so good.

You are quick-witted and hilarious. You are thoughtful and ask a million questions. You're acquiring a love of music, and you sing along with Roar when it comes on the radio (although your version of the words is not quite right, but adorable - "eye-va the fighter", etc.).

You're such an easy kid to parent. You have your moments, sure, but for the most part, you're a dream. I don't know how we got so lucky to be your parents. You stretch our will and my patience, but also our hearts and our joy. I didn't know how unconditional love could be until there was you.

The years have flown by and I just want to bottle you up today so I remember you at this age. You are mine and I am blessed.

love you,