the kid's alright

Today my gorgeous youngest son turns six years old. Perhaps you know this already. His daily countdowns culminated today with an exuberant cheer of "TODAY IS MY BIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRTTTTTHHHHDAAAAAAYYYY!!" Complete with a vibrato. It was, to put it simply, impressive. If your windows shattered this morning around 7:50 a.m. Central Time, I apologize.

It also made my heart simultaneously swell and then burst. I've been doing what any parent seems to do as they watch their children get older, and that is toil in my basement after their bedtime to built a time freezing machine. Thank goodness my husband works for a large scale tool manufacturer. I think I'm close!

As has become a tradition on birthdays in my house, we jump off the age of the birthday person and then share that number of things we love about them. When I turned 40 in November, I expected to be showered three-fold by love and adoration from my sons and husband. Seems they peter'd out around 18. Nice. But I'm not bitter. And, OK, this post isn't about me. It's about this amazing boy I'm lucky to know. I know you all haven't had the pleasure of meeting him, but you've gotten a little hint of what he's like in some posts scattered here and there, so I thought I'd share my list of six here. Because honestly, at some point, I don't doubt this kid will find my blog, and well, maybe he'll find this post heartwarming. Like I imagine he will when he gets to that one where we discussed Hummers and what a little devil I think he is. To remind him it's not all made up letter games and crazy drawings, I share six things I adore about my youngest son on his sixth birthday:

• Everything is exciting to him. Everything. Every morning he opens his eyes and gives me a smile is a day when he expects to learn everything and explore everywhere.
• Snuggling is not yet taboo for this boy. Out of nowhere, he'll creep up on me and nest in under my arm for a rare quiet moment. He's rarely not talking. Can't imagine that his capable legs are also designed to stop moving. But when he stops to take that breath, sometimes all he needs is a hug. This is, in part, why I need to put a rush on that time freezing machine.
• The way he still finds some words difficult to say properly. No matter how often we work on it, he still pronounces "pattern" as "pad-u-when." I make him say it over and over again because it makes me smile. However, now that I think about this, his insistence in saying it as he does may really be his way of affirming his love for all things Star Wars.
• The 12 times he'll stop and turn around to wave at me each school day as he walks from our house to the corner to meet the school bus. Each wave is shared with a smile and what I like to think is the thought "I'll miss you, Mama, and I love you, too. Try not to miss me too much. I'll be home soon."
• That at any moment, he will toss up the rock hands, and knows the lyrics to everything from "Blitzkrieg Bop" to "Vertigo". To say I'm proud would be an understatement, and the rock hands never, ever fail to make me smile.
• How proud he is to be able to read, which has fed his insatiable appetite for reading and listening to stories. As a "book kid" from way back, to see his eager face when I celebrate how well he's done sounding out a word that seemed impossible to him the day before makes me want to cheer. I hope this interest never wanes.

There's so much more that captivates me about this boy, of course, but now I have gifts to wrap and a chocolate cake to get decorated. In the end, I want the world for him, but for now? Now I hope he remains as happy and excited about his life as he is today, and announces his place in the world as boldly as he did this morning as he trumpeted his birthday to all of us.

I'm sure he'd also tell you he was sorry about those broken windows, too. Because not only is he loving, but he's also compassionate.