My little boy is not so very little anymore. Six years old is quite big if you didn’t know this. When you are six you have a mouth full of missing teeth, you shout weird grown-up-ish phrases like, “Yeah, Baby!”, and you no longer have any interest in hearing The Very Quiet Cricket over and over again before bed but instead, enjoy having the entire series of Harry Potter read to you and you ask intricate questions about plot and character development along the way. It’s mind boggling.
It’s mind boggling because when you are six, your mother still has vivid memories of the extreme heat during those weeks of summer before you were born, and she can remember talking to you and calling you by name when you were still in her womb. And the memories of the 26 agonizing hours it took to bring you into the world are still fresh. Very fresh. Trust me.
How is it that there are 10 hour days spent with young children that seem to crawl and never end but then the years fly by at light speed? I can literally recall the first time my boy laughed as though it was three days ago. It’s scary. It’s scary because if the first six years passed this quickly that means I could wake up tomorrow and he might be 12. Noooo!
In honor of Mr. Man’s very recent sixth birthday here is a list of my most favorite things about him:
1. His amazingly blond blond hair. He is my genetic proof to the world that I am a real blond. Or at least I was once. And his crowd stopping gorgeous green eyes. Those are my proof to the world that I did not have an affair with the mail man and he is, indeed, my husband’s son.
2. His nurturing spirit and kind heart. I overhear these tender moments between he and his sister that melt me. He is the first to run to her side when she is hurt and is often the first to stoop down and teach her something new when she doesn’t understand.
3. The look of genuine befuddlement on his face when his sister lashes out at him with irrational rage for no good reason. He clearly doesn’t understand women yet. He gets that from his dad.
4. He still calls me “Mommy.”
5. When he says, “I think I just need to be snuggled.” He’ll still do that when he’s 17…right?
6. He is wicked smart. (I’ve been using “wicked” as an adverb ever since my trip to Boston..sorry. I’ll stop soon.) He makes these amazing connections to the world around him and has an unbelievable mind for math. And reading. He looooves a good book. He amazes me.
7. He’s still so blissfully innocent. Although I’m starting to see hints of influence from the big bad world starting to creep in, he really is the purist of souls at the moment. He has no idea that the world can be a horrible, painful place sometimes. And that not everyone is going to love him or have his best interests at heart. He has no idea that there are things like sex, drugs, rock and roll and pure evil. He’s just happy and loving and optimistic.
8. I can get him to do anything for a dollar. It’s awesome.
9. He’s so easy to please. He doesn’t ask for a lot and is sincerely grateful when we get to go on a special trip or he gets a new little something. He just likes to be around his dad and me. That could be at an amusement park or in our own back yard-it’s all the same to him.
10. He’s very responsible. He never forgets to feed the dog or clear his plate. He often reminds me of important dates-“Mommy, I have parent teacher conferences tomorrow night, don’t forget. And you have to sign my permission slip for the field trip by Friday, okay?” Seriously. That happened.