My First Attempt at a Post in Quite a While...

On the occasion of your first missing tooth, I find myself astonished at the person you have become at 5 1/2, Mr. D.

You choose to shower now. Shower! As in, you come home from soccer practice, take a shower, and eat your dinner. That's not toddler stuff.

And bless your heart, as our first born and Mama's first baby, you constantly have to prompt us, your clueless parents, that it's time to move on to the next thing. I'm ready to shower. I'd like to eat with a regular fork, please. I can go get the mail. I don't need help with this, or that, or the other thing anymore, Mama. Right. You are, after all, 5 1/2, and you really don't need that kind of help anymore. If you didn't remind me of that, I'd still have you eating in the high chair, I think.

You hold on to your sweetness, though. You love your sisters with such a nurturing presence, such willingness to help them, such kindness and appreciation of them. You love your friends and share freely and gladly. You love your family, all your grandparents especially, and Mommy and Daddy, with whom you are unabashedly affectionate.

Last night, you called me back in after lights-out. I was expecting the traditional litany of "I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I'm not tired." But last night, you called me because you had a question. How, exactly, do they capture sharks from the ocean and transport them to an aquarium? Without the sharks biting people? How, exactly, not in baby-general terms? So we discussed some of my guesses and agreed that we'd go on-line the next day do some research. I went downstairs shaking my head, amazed and grateful for all that goes on in your mind.

Speaking of your mind, it is a joy to watch you gravitate with intensity toward letters and numbers. You're learning to read, all on your own. You're doing math all the time, when you skip-count in basketball and quiz me with math facts and count your enormous car collection or the number of times you can hit the ball before it drops to the ground. It is all joy to you, these symbols that hold ever-increasing meaning in your world. It is a joy to me to watch you figure it all out.

And no reflection on my 5 1/2 year old boy could fail to mention how you love your sports. Hours of basketball in the driveway, made even better when Mommy or Daddy is soundly schooled by your accurate shot. Tennis. Soccer. Cheering on your Tarheels. When a game is going, whether you are playing or watching, your attention is fully focused.

Sweet D, we love you. It is with some sadness that we let go of your baby teeth and your baby days, but with even more joy, we love watching you grow. So bring on the tooth fairy. We're ready. I think.