He’ll be 5 in May, and he left toddlerhood far behind long ago. He’s a preschooler, and soon to leave that behind, too…
To be a Kindergartener. A real, school-aged little boy. He can be reasoned with (mostly), he can be bribed, umm I mean positively rewarded. He can do chores – some. He can pick up on a lot of things we take for granted, like the wildly disgusting and inappropriate for a 4-year-old lyrics to Flo Rida’s “Whistle.”
And he asks questions. Lots of questions – some tough ones.
“Mom, if you get deaded, how many lives do you get?” Life is one big video game to him right now.
We’ve had the “stranger danger” talk, and his response was to ride bikes in the house forever so nobody will take him. He’s also terribly afraid of lava… that our house will somehow get engulfed in hot lava. In Texas.
But then he’s really brave and grown up. And empathetic… he’s developing that.
“I’m really sorry your cat got run over, Aunt Kelly.” Those words came from him, unprovoked, during a conversation about how his aunt’s cat didn’t “follow directions” to not play in the street and died.
5 years ago, I was pregnant with him, and I dreamed of his first coos and first steps. To be honest, 5 wasn’t an age I really envisioned or looked forward to (not that I didn’t look forward to it, just that I didn’t romanticize it like squishy newborness). Everyone else’s 5 year olds seemed so… disinteresting to me. They weren’t very “cute” anymore, in that elbow dimple, toddler speech kind of way. They were just… kids.
I love when life surprises me. Surprise! Your own nearly 5 year old? Just about the cutest thing ever.