My sweet boy, today you are six.
Finally six, you would emphasize.
It’s hard for you to be the last kid in your class with a birthday. Funny, for me these six years have flown by in such a speedy blur I can barely make sense of it all. Ah well, even the world of quantum physics can’t yet explain how and why we perceive time. It’s no wonder a mother and son can’t either.
As the keeper of your memories, let me recap this year for you.
It started out horrible. Soon after your fifth birthday, you fell on asphalt at your old school and split open your forehead (4 stiches). Too bad that wasn’t the end of your head injuries. Eight months later, you tossed your head back playfully in bed and cracked your coconut on a window sill (6 staples). Now every time you bang your head at play, you come running to me, only me, panicked and asking if it’s open and bleeding again. Poor thing. You were flabbergasted when I told you I had never cracked my head open, even as a kid, and that it was actually a very rare injury. And here we are again, back to the world of different perspectives.
Let me tell you what I see when I look at you: sugar cane.
Pure, unadulterated sweetness.
Has there ever been such a tender-hearted boy as you? There is a sweet, babyish quality that shines through your smile when you explain an idea or tell me a story. At night I lay in bed with you and you tell me your secrets. When a friend gives you a compliment, says you’re nice, you take it to heart in such a profound way I fall in love with you all over again. You quietly seek praise and assurance, and I strive to give you enough. You would be blind if you could see your own true magnificence.
This is the beginning stage of mastery in your life and it has been a thrill to have a front row seat. You are reading real books now. Your handwriting is neat, and I have been shocked at how well you can make up a story. These are the stories where you draw a picture and write a few sentences down below. I loved writing them as a child and Nana even saved my story about the Tooth Fairy. We always talk about how much you resemble your daddy, but there you are writing stories with charm and surprise and winning the class vocabulary contest, and I am flooded with familiar pride.
I could (and do) spend hours watching you color these days. It’s your new favorite hobby and you often chose not to play at all, but to color entire afternoons away. Seeing the way your mind works when figuring out how to draw something or what the picture should be is simply fascinating. It’s one of the gifts kindergarten gave you. At the beginning of the year, Mrs. Peacock told you, “No more scribble scrabble,” and right on the spot, you stopped being a baby and became an artist.
Kindergarten.
If cracking your head open twice were the lowlights of the year, kindergarten has definitely been the highlight. Your new school is such a perfect match for you. The friends you’ve made are kind and come from loving families. Their mothers have become my friends. Your school has given our entire family the blessing of being a part of a community. And you absolutely love it! Your math skills are crazy good and you love learning about all sorts of things. Your report cards have been excellent and your spelling tests almost always come back with an A++. You were given the parts of a wise man and a clown in the school’s productions, and you rocked them both. How apt!
But what about that Daddy side of you? Well, it’s still going strong. You are fast and athletic with genetic ease. You master precision in kicking and throwing balls effortlessly. You put a beautiful spin on a football, and every time a man walks by and sees you, they comment on your good arm. You are also becoming fearless with your body, eager to swim into deep waters and tackle waves on your boogie board. Daddy and I are both excited by this, because although we always want you to be safe, we know that the real gusto of life involves a willingness to go all in.
That’s where you are, my love, all in.
Being your mother is my utter joy. After a few rounds of backtalk, you have turned into such a pleasant and reasonable person, a true pleasure to be around. I am not the only one to see this. You made friends easily at both schools, and the reasons kids give for liking you are always the same: you are nice, funny, cute, and a good dancer. Girls have chased after you, but so far only one has won your heart, Natalia, a sweet and pretty little girl who is now your girlfriend–whatever that means. I will allow you this puppy love, because I still have you right where I want you: in the center of my heart, my beautiful son.
Always loving you,
Mama
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