Wednesday, June 4, 2014

To Bubby, who is now five years old

Dear Bubby,

You are five now. The ninetieth percentile for height say the charts, and the hundredth percentile for cuteness says your mama. We celebrated your birthday with gourmet muffins for breakfast and trendy cupcakes for dessert because there is no such thing as too much cake.  You picked a few friends to have over, and somehow I pulled off a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle party in our small house, stuck indoors for the majority of it because of the rain that only poured at the exact time your party began.  But we had a good time, and I would sew masks and make a punch-out game and pin the pizza on the turtle all over again each year to see you smile the way that you did.

You are a mix of shy and bossy. The shyness you get from both parents, but the bossiness (and also the sassy-ness) you get from me. You sound out words because you love letters, and you know about half of the states on the map because you think it is fun. You played soccer in the fall and the spring, and the spring was a much better experience thanks to the coach and environment. You climb the slides at the park with gusto, but the monkey bars are still intimidating. You are cautious of new things and of taking risks, but I think at just five years old that is okay. (It keeps you safe in parking lots and hopefully protects you from stranger-danger.)

You still hate vegetables, and watching you eat a green bean roasted to perfection is similar to watching a contestant on Fear Factor or Survivor swallow a worm. You sing along with the radio, and your voice makes me smile, whether you are belting out something by Pink or by Chris Tomlin.  Legos and Superheros and action figures are your thing these days, and your imagination allows you endless hours of play.  You talk to one of the librarians at story time like she is one of your dear friends. You instinctively watch out for your little brother, and you do your best to include him.  Sibling rivalry still hasn't really been a thing in our house, and for that I am thankful and somewhat amazed.

Each day you say something that unintentionally makes me laugh, and each day you ask something puzzling or profound. I do my best to write these things down because I want to remember. Photographs don't capture what is going through your mind, and there is so much going through your mind. You are growing up so fast. I see you climbing or playing with your friends, and a lump forms in my throat.  You are on loan to me right now, and I don't want to lose sight of that.  I am proud of how you are kind and helpful and compassionate. I am humbled by the faith that I see in you each day, an example in my very own home on what Jesus meant to have faith like a child. I love you very much, Bubby, and I am so glad you are my son.


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