My baby is turning six.
As he stands over 4ft tall, weighing in at half way to 60 pounds, it nearly feels ridiculous to call him a baby. Especially when he recently fell asleep in the car and I couldn’t maneuver him out and into the house without nearly dropping him an waking him up in the process. Only then I remember, when he grows two more feet and rocks the scale at nearly 200 pounds he will still be MY baby.
The boy who came jump kicking into my life one wintery night in 2008. He’s always had awesome legs. And a huge smile…
Five was a hard year for my dude.
He got dramatically ill.
He lost a little piece of himself. And so did I.
But he’s also grown so much. Physically, emotionally, mentally, cognitively.
Three inches he’s gained. He graduated from preschool. He’s learning to read. He can add circles around many other small children and me too (what? math is hard). And, his heart, believe it or not, has grown bigger too.
A few weeks ago, I sat beside him on the couch and held his hand as he cried himself silly over an ASPCA commercial (seriously, with the sad music and bloody dog eye shots, what even is that?) and vowed to send every single penny from his piggy bank to save the dogs and cats that humans hurt.
My heart swelled right up and burst into a million pieces. It hurt so good.
I’ve never met a more caring soul. I’ve never known a child so sensitive or concerned for the safety, well being, and generally happiness of others. I’ve never known a five year old with more compassion than most of the 35 year olds I know. And, I’ve never let a day go by without telling him so.
He’s so much like his brothers and so very different at the same time. The day he came wailing into our lives he gave us each a gift. And I know that year six will be one too.
He loves listening to Imagine Dragons in his bedroom at night and Beyonce in the car. He can do the Single Ladies dance with uncanny accuracy. He also enjoys football (watching more than playing), soccer (playing more than watching), and basketball (if he’s on the same team as his best friend aka his brother).
When he grows up he wants to be paleonogologist (paleontologist). And a doctor. And a police officer. And a farmer. And an actor, stage plays and film, he wants to do both.
He plans to live close by me so he can eat dinner at my house every night. I’m not really sure who told him I’m cooking.
He wants to have a huge garden so he can grow his own vegetables. He wants to help kids who have food allergies and kidney disease. He wants to make enough money that he can save all of the dogs, cats, and kids who don’t have homes, and then he will spend the rest on shoes for me, a new car for daddy, a million trees for our yard, and any thing his brothers want, like season passes to an amusement park. He thinks all of it should cost about $200. Total.
He is afraid of the dark, and storms, bad men, and wolves. He doesn’t understand why God lets kids get sick or die, and he hopes I live forever because he doesn’t know who will be his mommy if I don’t. Either way he promises that he will remember me forever and love me even longer than that. I tell him the same thing because it’s true.
And, I am crying as I type this because, um, because I just am.
Beyonce gets it (but she doesn’t share her videos so you have to go buy Blue for yourself and watch it).