Today you turned five. Of all your birthdays, other than your first, this seems like the biggest one. Up until now, you’ve been little. A baby, a toddler, and then a preschooler. But when you’re five? You’re a KID.
The morning started with a bang. You came flying into our room the minute a seven appeared on your clock, because you were beside yourself with excitement. I think this is the first year you really got the whole concept of a birthday. This is the day you turn older which means you’re bigger and you get to do more things, and most importantly, there are presents!
Your gifts were good ones this year, if I do say so myself. You got the Playmobil brachiosaurus you’ve been longing for. And the octopus from The Octopus Under My Bed, sewn by the author’s wife. Rolls of painter’s tape in seven different colors. A Nekosaurus shirt from Alex & Jett (to whom I must give an extra “hooray!” plug because I mistakenly had it shipped to wrong address and she hustled and paid extra shipping to get it to me on time).
Your last gift was your new booster seat. I know it seems like a bit of a strange gift, but it is one you really wanted. You’ve peered into the cars of your friends and noticed they are riding in “big kid” seats. As much I’d like to keep you tethered to a seat with an eighteen point harness, I have to admit it was probably time to move up. Your fifth birthday seemed like a good time. It made it special as well as setting a precedent so that Shep isn’t asking for a new seat tomorrow.
Once you opened it, I spent my shower time rearranging car seats and figuring out the best spot for everyone. I gave you a choice of anywhere you wanted to go today, from the zoo to the dinosaur museum, and of all places, you chose the McDonald’s Playland with the candy cane striped slide. Which, okay, I’ll take the Neko who’s easy to please. As you settled into your new seat and pulled the real seat belt over your lap, you could barely contain your beaming smile. I think you were trying to play it cool, but you finally erupted into a peel of excited giggles.
A bit later, I turned around to see how you were doing, and there you sat, legs crossed with your cheek resting in your hand. Smiling quietly, you looked every bit as if our next stop would be soccer practice where you’d hop out of the car and run off to your life that has less and less to do with me.
I know this sounds like I’m sad about you getting older, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m so proud and honored to see who you’ve become. You’ve worked so hard on the things you find challenging, and have flourished at the things you do well.
Happy birthday, smunchkin. I think I’m going to like having a five-year-old around the house.