Today you turn five. Yes, five. Some moms might write a long letter filled with memories and loving sentiments. Some moms might pull out volumes of pictures neatly displayed on ornate pages that they toiled over for hours, which chronicle each moment of the past five years. Some moms might even throw a huge party and buy a huge cake. You didn't get that mom. Sorry, Kid.
|Why can't they stay so tiny?|
I remember the first time your sister made you laugh, and resenting the fact that she did it with such ease and yet you would hardly crack a smile for me. I remember watching your sister dote on you at Easter and pile plastic eggs around you in your bouncy chair, and how you laughed at her and kicked and bounced most of he eggs out of the chair. I remember Daddy's smile when you fell asleep on his shoulder, which was one of your favorite places to slumber.
I remember so many things from the last five years that the time seems a blur. Today, your sister is your favorite person, cars and trucks are your favorite toys, and you have a strong will that I wouldn't want to come across in a dark alley. You are imaginative, creative, and Daddy and I hope you'll be left handed like us and want to be a pro baseball pitcher. Just sayin'.
|Is that hair gel?|
We've had countless sleepless nights, and our share of doctor visits. You've dealt with the ear infections your Mommy passed down to you, the tubes to fix them, and you still tell me you love me. You had your thumb fixed from crooked to straight and I'm always thrilled when you give me a thumbs up.
|There wasn't a more handsome one year old|
You are a force to be reckoned with, and the ladies better beware. You are a charming young man with long eye lashes and blonde hair. I love your enthusiasm for everything you do, and hope that your charm works well for you in school.
|The first lost tooth.|
I love your kisses and hugs, and the way you say, "I love you". I love the passion you have for the things you love, and the things you really.don't.love.
You are five now, Fred, whether Mommy likes it or not. There is so much more I could write, but I fear that the internet is not the fad I thought it would be, and you'll come across this when you're a teenager. By that time, memories of your stinky poops and farts, your temper tantrums, your revelations about all things obvious, and your love for your Mommy will be only a source of embarrassment.
In conclusion, Fred, happy fifth. May you enjoy every year with as much zest as you have these first five. Minus the tantrums, ear infections, and croup. And early mornings. And....aw, forget it.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FRED!!