Really, my boy, I have no idea how this happened. It was just weeks ago that we made the trip home from the hospital, both nervous in the back seat. It was just days ago that you took your first steps, which I made you repeat over and over by chasing your juice so I could catch it all on video. It was just moments ago that you said the magic words I Love You Mommy for the first time. How can you possibly be 5 already?
When you were rocketing toward your second birthday, your grandma told me that the twos are terrible, but the threes are worse. The fours are just horrible, but at five, you would wake up as a real little person. I have been looking forward to that ever since. And you are, a real little person. It’s been coming for quite some time, but I have to say, you’ve really come into your own since our vacation. You made friends with everybody, even grown ups you can sometimes be scary. You made 4 whole days trapped in a car, dare I say it, pleasant. You even play with your sister, sometimes. Sometimes, she annoys you, and it’s clear you’d rather she walk out the door and keep going.
You are the absolute best when you get up in the morning. You’ve stopped jumping on my face yelling, “Wake up!” and first quietly go about your business and greet your toys for the day. Then you sneak over to where I am and your smile eats the room as you gasp, “Good Morning, Mommy!” with such delight, I feel like I’d beat a chocolate chip cookie for your affection at that very moment. You hug and cuddle and give me smooches, and I wish we could do that forever. Now if you could just learn volume control so you don’t wake up your sister. She’s not as fun when she wakes up these days.
In just a few weeks, you start a new school, and even though you’ve been going to school for a couple of years, this one feels real. It’s not kindergarten yet, but it’s close. You already know your teachers, and you’ve picked out a brand new lunch box, and I think you’re excited. I hope so. You’re going to learn so much this year, and I can’t wait to see it.
You’re an impatient little thing, and that’s pretty normally I believe, especially in a day and age where you don’t have to wait through commercials, can call up a movie any time you want, and find anything on the internet in a matter of seconds. That doesn’t mean you’re not going to learn, Grasshopper. Oh no, that’s Priority Number 1. Neither your dad nor I can stand the whining and immediate meltdown process that begins as soon as we say you can’t have or do something and I’ll bet your teachers won’t stand for it either. But you’re a good learner, and I think you’ll figure it out pretty quickly. You’re already starting. You know how to share and most of the time are happy to do it (exception: see sister). And you love it when you make people smile.
I could go on and on, but I’ll just leave it here by saying that you are a treasure and make each day an adventure. I’m actually a little bit sad that you’ll be gone to school every day because I’ll miss you so much. But when you come back, you’ll make it all OK with a big hug. And that’s like Christmas every day for me.