Five

Today my baby boy is five years old.  And to use one of my son’s favorite phrases, “I can’t believe it.”

Five? That’s an entire hand.

The cliche is true.  Time goes so fast.  I can clearly remember bringing him home from the hospital and holding him in my arms.  He made me a Mama.

Now he’s going to a big kid school.  He does math in his head.  He writes his name.  He draws elaborate pictures of cities. He eats salad plates for lunch.  He is a master of puzzles and Legos that are above his age group. He loves to build blocks and race cars. He rides his bike and doesn’t look back.

He loves his family.  He enjoys the comfort of close friends and familiar situations.  He is in a constant state of learning which means a million questions.  There is always a “Why?” or a “How?”  He is silly and goofy and he always gets the punchline.  I often find him telling elaborate stories to no one in particular about his day or his dreams.  He wants to be a truck driver.  He wants to build bridges.  He wants to explore the world.  He wants to live in the house right next door to Mama and Daddy.

There are times when I look at him and see a mature, grown up little dude.  There are times when I look at him and still see the baby who spent his days at home with me playing on the floor and singing lullabies.  But, mostly, I see this amazing boy who makes my heart soar.

Happy Birthday, Daniel.  I love you.