Five

I held your foot in my hand.  I was tucking you into bed, marveling at marvelous little you.  I stared at that long, soft, pink foot and shook my head.  It spanned my entire palm.  I clearly remember the days I could easily cradle it in my palm like a small stone.

You grinned up at me, that devilish little toothy grin, a small gap in your two front teeth thanks to thumb-sucking.  You swear you've stopped, but I know that late at night, as your drifting through dreamland, that tiny thumb drifts into your mouth.  And that's ok.

You turned five.  You are five.  Not a baby, but not a big boy.  You are my little man.  My trusty side-kick.  You are an opinionated sous-chef, a watcher of birds, the commander of Abigail Fluffypants, a demander of snuggles, a tattler of tales, a back-seat D.J.  

You are learning to name and deal with lots of big feelings.  Sadness comes out as anger.  Joy can result in energetic gesticulations, misunderstood as aggression.  Life is tough for a five year old.  But it is also full of beauty and wonder.  Thanks to you I have never walked so slowly or listened so carefully.  You slow me down in all the best ways.  

You and I spend a lot of time together, and I LOVE it.  Many mornings, after dad has dropped the older 3 off at school, you saunter down to the kitchen, and announce your presence with a "Hey mom!"  This is quickly followed by, "I haven't had my morning snuggles yet."  We cuddle on the sofa, attempting to spot some birds outside.  Most times, though, crazy Abby jumps on our stomachs and licks our faces until we are laughing and rolling off the couch.  We read, we play, we get ready for preschool, or junior kindergarten, to be exact.  We decided to gift you with one more year of childhood.  Why rush it?  You go to school 4 days a week for 3 hours a day, and that's plenty.  In case you couldn't tell, I love having you home with me.  

I love watching you grow into a little person.  You have ideas that are all your own.  You have amazing questions and observations.  I wish I were more diligent in recording all of them.  I suppose it is part and parcel of being the fourth child; fewer pictures are taken, fewer quotes recorded.  Though they may not be written on this blog, they are written on my heart.  The exact words are gone, but the essence is there.  I love you for all those special, inexplicable, unique things that make you who you are.  No one (save God and your daddy) could ever love you more.

I also love watching you play with your siblings.  Nothing in this world brings me more joy than hearing the four of you playing and laughing together.  Our family wouldn't be complete without you, sweet boy.

I often steal your Grammy's line and ask: "Do you know what I love about you?"  You oblige and ask, "What?"

"Everything."

So, happy fifth birthday, son [late, as usual, but that's just how this momma rolls].  Love you, baby boy!


Love, Momma