Five Years Old (Month Sixty)

Dear Abe,

This morning you asked me if it was still your birthday, which thankfully, it is not. It feels as though we have been celebrating your birthday for months and months and months, and to be quite honest, it really is exhausting us all (even you). I think you felt a tad bit relieved that it wasn't your birthday today. I mean, I am sure you just can't take one more Spider-Man-related item, or piece of cake. ENOUGH.

Just a few of your Spider-Man items.

But, we made it to five! We are passed the whole, "keep your child alive" stage and now we are in the midst of actual parenting. YIKES. This stuff is hard. I might need to start rewatching the Cosby Show for some pointers.

Your short-lived obsessions have continued, and your current status is "Spider-Man all the time." You have three different costumes and you wear any combination of them every night. Somtimes just the gloves, sometimes just the mask, sometimes the whole thing. And, nothing is done without the most specific intentions. That is something about you -- you know exactly what you are doing, and why you are doing it (even though most people have no idea).  I used to think your drawing spiders all over a paper was weird, until I realized that in "Spider-Man" (the first one, because as we all know it was just called "Spider-Man" and not "Spider-Man One." Don't even get me started on my vast knowledge of Spider-Man), Peter Parker does the same thing when he is sketching his costume. You watch the movies intensly, and mimic Spidey as you watch. You have every pose down, and even most of the lines. Although, I am not really happy when you tell us to, "Fix the damn door!"

This month we went to the State Fair, and while we certainly failed at the State Fair (it's a long story, but seriously, can we not go ANYWHERE without meltdowns?), you did succeed in riding the rides all by yourself. My gut reaction was to go with you up those tall tower of stairs on the big pink slide, but you assured me that you could do it all by yourself. And, you did. And, you loved every second of it.

Brave down the slide. Okay, I was brave.

You are at a new school, and the transition to the new class was great. You were not nervous about not knowing anyone, and you made new friends easily. Your teachers tell us you are an excellent listener. One day at dinner you told us that a little girl in your class said you were ugly. My first reaction was to say that this little girl is a straight up bitch. I mean, who would call my baby ugly?!?! But, you really didn't seem too concerned about it. In fact, I don't think you were upset at all. I mean, no one has ever called you ugly before. So, it can't be true, right? Right. I hope you carry that self-assuredness with you your entire life (and I will take care of the bitches.)

Last night, I came to lay with you before you fell asleep. You asked me to rub your back (like always), but then you turned around to chat with me. I told you that I was so proud of the boy you had become and that you were smart and kind, and if you can be those things, then that is enough. (Then you said, "I am cute too. God made me cute." I think your Grandma might have told you that. And, yes, you are cute, and that is nice too.) You had your blankey in your hands and I told you now that you are five, it's time to keep your blankey in bed from now on. This of course upset you. You said things like, "You mean, I can never have my blankey ever again?!" in a tone that suggested you just may shrivel up and die without the blankey. But, it is time. You are grown up now, and I even notice that your blankey is being forgotten about more often than not -- even during bedtime.

So, this morning as we were all waking up, you got out of bed and walked down to our bedroom, blanket in tow. Then, you looked at me, ran back into your room. You came back, empty handed, and looked up at me with a proud smile. I am sure my face was one of complete surprise (because even I forgot about our little deal). To me, this is the most grown up thing you have done in your short life. You did this all on your own, and I could see how proud you were.



My sweet boy.

And, Abe, I cannot tell you how truly proud I am of you. You are smart. You are kind. You are thoughtful. You have taught me so much in the last five years, and have made me a better person. I will love you forever and ever, and will always be your Mama, no matter what (a concern of yours.)

Love,
Mama