Five.

Mason,

Happy birthday baby!! Today you are five. FIVE. FIVE. FIVE. FIVE. FIVE. It is weird to even type that.

FIVE.

A whole HAND FULL. (Not to be confused with a handful, which you often are as well.) Though it's just five fingers it's so much more than that. Five years makes for a lot of memories. A handful of years, a heart full of joyous, chaotic moments. Surprisingly, it didn't really sneak up on me like past birthdays. Years past each birthday was bittersweet. Another year we'd made it. Another year you'd thrived. Another year flew by. This year isn't any different.

WE MADE IT.
YOU THRIVED.
AND IT FLEW BY.

But in its own way it is different.

Five is a little different. With five comes kindergarten. Let me just tell you what a BIG DEAL Kindergarten is these days. For nearly every parent of a four year old I know this is the topic of discussion. There are reoccurring themes in these conversations, the most popular -- anxiety. Followed closely by fear paired with excitement. Unknowns. Hysteria. And here is where I admit to you that I am not really that sad about it. I feel a little guilty, because for years the mere thought of you turning five panicked me. Just hearing the word kindergarten made me worried, perhaps anxious is a better word.
OKAY....it made me come TOTALLY UNGLUED.

But magically with the nearing of five...I think we are ready. But I can't help but wonder did I  DID WE do enough? Did we build enough puzzles? Paint enough with our fingers? Did I snuggle you long enough when you'd drift off to sleep? Did I watch your tiny little sighs while you were napping? I second guess myself often. Did I laugh hard enough when you first started telling me stories? I replay afternoons in my head. I question did we build tall enough towers? Watch enough Pixar films? Did I listen? I heard you, but did I really listen when you asked questions about dinosaurs and volcanoes? And better yet, were my answers sufficient? Did I read enough nursery rhymes? Sing enough lullabies? Did I let you get muddy? Jump in murky puddles? Did I take enough pictures? Film enough memories? Because I can't forget those things, they aren't coming back. Because I don't WANT TO FORGET them. Because they were  are ours. Did I prepare you? Did I spend the five years that I was given with you wisely? Abundantly? And most of the times the answer is yes.

But sometimes I wonder.

And so I accept that the afternoons won't still get to be spent in pajamas, or me whispering I love you as you fall in to a deep 1:00 PM slumber. Instead, we'll spend them building Lego ships after school, hearing about your day, reading new stories, making new friends. I'll probably still whisper I love you. But the good thing about FIVE is you say it back. And you know what it means. And it means so much more coming from a FIVE YEAR OLD who gets it. You totally get it.

This year you've blossomed in a new way. You have matured. Your questions now have purpose. You fill your role as biggest brother in ways I never imagined a five year old could.You play harder, sleep harder. You talk faster, you stand taller, you laugh louder. You jump higher, you eat more, OH MY GOODNESS YOU EAT MORE. People always joke when they see me grocery shopping with you and your brothers. Just wait until they are teenagers. Wow three boys, you are going to need a part time job to pay for groceries once they reach high school. Ummm, why yes, thank you. But what about now? Because they are two and five. And this chubby one, he's not even ONE. And I think I should probably just buy a cow. And a chicken. And a field full of wheat maybe.

You really understand things. You have started to read. You have started to write. You take pride in your drawings and you should, because your artwork is awesome. You draw elaborate scenes, filled with people. People who don't really have have clothing or bodies, but these kick ass people HAVE FINGERS. And tiny little heads with eyes as big as quarters. And I love them.

I absolutely love those little people, because you drew them. They are your signature masterpiece. And you are mine. My masterwork, my showpiece, my gem. You started as this small little empty canvas and now your canvas is painted with personality, coated with curiosity. A true masterpiece we call Mason. Ornate, yet simple. Dazzling. Simply stunning. And just like you do for your works of art, I too take pride.

So much pride that it bursts at my seams. The pride overflows the arch of my lips and sneaks up the corners of my mouth  in to a gigantic beaming smile of delight. Delightful pride. All because of you. I am proud of you today. I am proud of your yesterdays, your last Thursdays, your two, three and four year old feats. And I will be proud of your tomorrow. For always.

I asked you what you thought about turning five. You didn't seem really enthusiastic, but you reminded me that once you were five (umm, hello you already are...as in today is your BIRTHDAY and that's when you turn a year old...) you'd have to go to kindergarten. And you wanna know what that means Mom? Umm, well first of all I hope it doesn't mean you are going to start calling me MOM. Not ready for that jelly. Mmmmkay? It means that I have to be good. After much discussion of the fact that I already thought you were pretty good, you reassured me you'd have to be good-er.

Oh okay. Awesome. On that note...I think I'm going to like five. So long as being gooder means less whining than accompanied the sweet age of four. I also hope that your kindergarten teacher is ready for some grammar lessons and such. Perhaps we missed that lesson amongst the painting and Pixar movies? Gooder? Seriously?

When you blew out your candles this morning I hope you wished big. Today is YOUR DAY. We are celebrating you. The bigger, older, sweet you. The gooder you, Mase. 


Happy birthday to our baby boy.

Loving you more then the day we met,
Mommy (IWILLNEVERBEMOM).