He's six

I now know that {five} is one of my favorite years of life as a parent.  There is so much that occurs within that very important year of life, much to be savored, appreciated and to applaud. 

 

{Five} was a big year for our little man. 

 

{Six} was the magic number he awaited.

 

 

We celebrated {six} with a small gathering at a favorite local Hibachi restaurant.  A special pal was invited, and over flaming onion volcano towers, steak and fried rice we welcomed year six.  His only other request, a triple chocolate cake.  A close second, to lose a tooth.

 

Less than a month after his sixth birthday, our little man lost his first tooth during the refreshment portion of his first elementary school Christmas program.  The good doctor gave it a wiggle and seconds later plucked it from our very surprised son's mouth.  He beamed, held it up, and proudly walked his first lost tooth around the fellowship hall being sure to show it to his music teacher. 

 

My Joe,

 

There are times that I have to think hard, focusing my attention on the specific details of your young life in an attempt to distinguish your special moments from that of your older sister's.  I became pregnant with you six weeks prior to her first birthday, bringing you home twenty months after she first arrived.  Then there was your father's graduation from residency which moved us to Cleveland, OH months before your second birthday.  After which, there were the months of trying to become pregnant again with a younger sibling for you.  And, then finally the arrival of your little sister, just seven days before your third birthday.  Our middle child now, sandwiched between two lovely ladies.

 



 

Then there are the times I so clearly can recall the precious details and moments of your life as though they happened yesterday.  The day we found out we were carrying a son, and the simultaneous relief and joy your father felt as his head fell into the palms of his hands, overcome. The labor and delivery nurse announcing you were nine pounds, which explained so much. The way you never cried in the hospital, but sneezed and how your tiny sneezes were replaced by a funny little cough that lasted for months.  Five to be exact, and only after that were you able to sleep soundly through the night.  And, how deeply you slept, sharing a room with your Daddy and I until you were almost two, sleeping through his early morning routine, the accidental lights being turned on and off. Your big blue eyes, alert with wonder and suspicion.  Your ability to produce one crocodile tear that would slowly roll as if you could control its speed for effect.  Incidentally, this is a skill you continue to possess and execute even today.  Your sturdy body, always tall for your age.  Your amazing head of hair that required frequent trips to the barber, and the way you'd sit so still on my lap silently enjoying the attention while sucking on a lollipop.  Your stubbornness and willful disobedience that caused me to carry you out of the Beechwood Trader Joe's while your Aunt and Uncle looked on.  Trips to countless farmer's markets during our time in Ohio, watching you as you enjoyed various pastries.  Discovering our love for freshly baked croissants, chocolate for your sister, raspberry for you.  Transitioning back to Milwaukee, our time in the rental property, your sudden fears and displeasure of preschool, having to make difficult decisions as your parents.  Watching your overcome fears, wipe away tears, gain confidence and learn to trust other significant adults in your life.  Observing you navigate your role as younger brother, discovering you had a voice and opinions of your very own. Watching you grow in your role as older brother, your strong affection and fierce loyalty. Your ability to find a beat and sustain it, your sweet singing voice, and love of music.  Your sudden love of "tomato" bugs one summer, your affection for all things locomotive, your enjoyment of water (but never too deep).  Your contentment in the backyard, your appreciation for creatures great and small.  The blankets you'd tote around and wrap around you to be cozy and warm.  The dozens of stuffed animals you'd line along the wall of your bed, so their little eyes were looking right at you. Your strength, always present but slow to be discovered.  Your love affair with flavored milks and long showers, enjoyed separately, of course. The year of your life that you spent without a shirt, shedding it the minute you arrived home. The way you learned to let your Daddy help you, and respond to your needs. You were never one for daring adventures, but preferred to stay close to home, to me. 

 

You have always saved your most special moments for me, my darling Joe.  You may not know it, but I have known it for as long as I can remember. 

 

I predict {six} will be a year of growth.  Perhaps we will all experience a bit of growing pains as we learn to accept that you are becoming a young man.  I knew it would happen but as I sit here today, it suddenly feels as though it happened all too quickly.  I am ready; however, if you are.  Just keep reaching out for my hand every now and then.

 

Forever yours,

 

Mom