Bode: 5 years old

Dear Bode,

You are now 5 years old.  You love being 5.  You love being able to hold up a whole hand when people ask you how old you are, and I always think, "5 fingers, each finger representing a year in your life."  

Five!

You are so much fun. You are still my happy little guy.  I love listening to you play in the playroom while I'm cooking or cleaning in the house.  It is my entertainment,  listening to the running commentary that you provide on the race taking place inside the playroom (or, rather, in your head), often punctuated by LOUD crashes of cars and planes.  And yes, I often run back to the playroom and admonish you to quiet down because your sister and brother are napping. But I really enjoy listening to you play.  You have always been able to entertain yourself, and that is a good thing.

Your teachers at school tell me that they enjoy you so much.  Your teachers have reported that they enjoy these things: your observations about space, you singing a Neil Young song ("Old Man" is a particular fave), you are one of the few who eats all of his "greens" at lunch, as well as just being a smiley guy who loves to play outside with your classmates.  This year at the school's Autumn Festival, I witnessed a change in you.  We arrived at the school, and almost immediately two friends, Sage and Rylan, sought you out to play.  You took off with these two boys, running and laughing. You never looked back, never asked if it was okay if you played with them.  I felt a little uneasy, but also happy, that you were able to play with friends on your own.  I watched you the whole time, you and your friends playing, chasing and taunting each other. I can tell, from school, that you have a kind of "hero-worship" going on with Sage, who is, you report, "Five and a HALF. And he's a Tall Oak." (which means he's not a newbie at this school).   Rylan, (who is "almost 6...November 18 is his birthday," you'll add), has been to our house for a play date and I love his sweet disposition. With Rylan, you can discuss Cars and Planes, as you're both big fans of these two franchises. Such boys! I thought about how this time last year, how you would play by yourself on a swing or a slide, with me and Daddy watching you closely.  And now this year, you're hiding in forts and playing with boys.  How things have changed!  At school, you love to play "Police" or "Ninja" and you're always telling me who is on whose team, and what girl was "allowed" to play with the boys.  Poop and burp jokes are starting to become funny to you (eeek!). Almost every day after school, you walk out with one or two sticks.   Suddenly, sticks are guns and I honestly don't know what to say/think/do about that. So I chalk it up to play and let you have your sticks. Sometimes when I pick you up from school, you hide them behind your back, announcing, "I have a surprise for you, Mommy." Your teacher, Miss Lynn, gives me a knowing wink, and says, "To add to your collection..." We always bring them home.  

You have a built-in friend and ally with Gianna.  She is now at the age where she can play with you.   She is also now at the age where she is your co-conspirator and sister who will egg you on when you are in trouble. Sometimes she will go along with your games (your direction), and sometimes not.  Sometimes I hear you both having a play dialogue between cars or dolls. Sometimes I hear her shrieking, "No, I will not play 'inja! (ninja)"  But always I find you playing on the swings together outside.  The swings are common ground, something you both enjoy. Gianna loves to imitate you and do  things to please you.  She always gives up something to share it with you, be it a sweet muffin or a toy.  And you in turn are a wonderful brother to her (though sometimes mischievous).  I love your relationship with Gianna, and I hope that you always have that in your life. 

There are times when you are so frustrated because you want to do things by yourself.  Sometimes it takes you longer than others.  You will cry, "I want to be first! I want to do it first!" There are times when you are so mad because Gianna will get dressed quicker than you (because I am dressing her) or puts  her shoes on faster.  "Wait for me, Gianna! Wait for me!" you wail.  Sometimes you are just tired and you don't know it, and you cry.  Sometimes you'll hit something or throw something in frustration. And sometimes, life is just plain frustrating, and you cry.  And I have to bite my tongue to not reprimand you for this behavior, to not tell you what I'm thinking, to not try to make it a teachable moment...and to remember that this is you, five years old, figuring things out for yourself. 

Happy Birthday, Bode.
Love,

Mommy

xo