Dear Five…
This is the time of year that we pause our normal snark to reflect on one of my crowning achievements in my life — raising a small human another year without harm, injury, jail, or duct taping him to a wall. For this single achievement we should all celebrate; oh wait, we are celebrating.
Proving once again that my son is his own person, he is barely interested in his birthday. I’m rather sure that it is not possible that this is my child — but I waved a cupcake under his nose and he came to and got excited once again.
The problem is simple, bumper cars. Last week we took him to an amusment park and he was tall enough to ride so very many rides (many totally on his own). [Sidenote: I totally teared up when he rode the kiddy rollercoaster all by himself -- the same coaster he's ridden for the past three years, but this year could ride alone. Oh, yes, I'm going to be a mess for the first day of school.] But the one ride he wanted to ride more than anything was the bumper cars. The problem is that for reasons I can’t understand, even with an adult, you had to be 48″ tall to ride. Seriously? Well, Duke heard me say “he needs to grow about 6 more inches” and turned that in his mind that he needs to be six years old. Oh, yes, now we merely see five as the beginning of the count down to six.
Now, this brings us full circle to how I know he’s my kid. While he may not be birthday crazed, he is always looking forward at the next thing he could do. I spent my life not being happy I was 12 because 13 was just around the corner; or enjoying being 15 because 16 was coming up…you get the point. Now I’m watching my son miss being 5, because he thinks he gets the bumper cars at 6.
So, this morning, when he bounced into bed this morning and I sleepily kissed him and said “Happy Birthday, Buddy.” Prince looked over and said, “You know what today is?” Duke grunted. “Today you are a whole handful. Look, for the next year you can hold up you hand whenever someone asks how old you are.”
Duke grins and smiles. He checks out his hand and declares, “I am five and five is a lot.”
Yes, Buddy, five is a lot and you are indeed a handful. My handful and I’m thrilled. This shall be a good year.
August 7th, 2008 at 10:55 am
Tearing up a lot over here – where does the time go??? He was just a baby… Of course, so was mine, who leaves for college 2 weeks from today.
“Today you are a whole handful.” – I love it. Was he really only part of a handful last week?
August 8th, 2008 at 12:00 am
Happy birthday! I’m laughing at the handful idea. Too funny!