Fiveteen

You are four going on fiveteen. You have a sense of yourself that not many are fortunate to learn at any age well enough at four years of age. Your cognitive thinking and mechanics continually amaze. You create from nothing. Your curiosity fuels you. It exhausts me. Your mind is busy and bright. Your questions are that of a teenager.

You are four going on fiveteen. You have a sense of entitlement that many teenagers feel. You’re stubbornness and desire can break me down. You manipulate your words and  baby browns to meet the here-and-now need. You control the power of what you claim. You are pint size but come with a studs kick. Similar to many teenage boys you too are a big heart hiding behind a no Nancy attitude.

You are four going on fiveteen. You want cell phones and ipads. You want to talk of your babe and girlfriend Pauline. You use words that should not be spoken. The waters are tested. Comparisons between families began. “He doesn’t have to!” is a quip often heard. I want a new house. I am horrified by wearing this. Actions are fewer as you state your embarrassment. You look through the lens of a teenager.

You are four going on fiveteen. Soon will be your birthday. I can hardly wait. I’d rather have your party any where else besides JJ Jump. That being shared, having your party in a warehouse full of jump houses and bouncing balls keeps perspective. You asking for guinea pigs, TMNT bike helmets, a junior basketball and a CARS ice cream cake gives me breath. This wild combination nourishes my heart. I see my baby boy not as fiveteen, but as five. My Dudes giggling, wrinkled nose look, wrestling on everyone, racing and vrooming as though he is a motorcycle, watching him pulling up his size 3t pants, the best Eskimo kiss giver and annoying piggy back rider all despite the fact that there might be potty in his pants.

You are four going on five.  Fiveteen will just have to wait.