six

“it doesn’t feel like i’m six,” quinn informed me, when he returned from his birthday weekend at his dad’s. but he has made “at least 3 or maybe 4” wishes now, having had birthdays every night since saturday. i wish i had captured his wonderful look of hopefulness on camera, his eyes closed, candlelight dancing on his cute face. but i will remember that one in my mama mind.

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moments like this help me forget all the concerns i have about him right now. he had such a good time opening his presents, and he said thank you for each one. he played with each one before moving on to opening the next. he’s such a thoughtful, deliberate guy. i love this kid.

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he seems to be having a bit of a neural firestorm at the moment. his sleep is erratic, and he has been grumpy upon waking, which is unusual for him, but reminds me of hypoglycemic people i know. he’s also mentioned sneaky pains “on the inside” of his knees and i suspect more rapid growth is about to happen. it might not be that noticeable to him, but six does seem to have its own distinct sensation to this mama.

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we have been singing along together to “i want to be your personal penguin,” my finger automatically hitting the back button on the cd player in the car each time quinn said, “again.” sneaking peaks at his joyful little off key singing voice in the rearview mirror, i feel so much love for this person. this kid. who is not a baby. decidedly not. yet he will still reliably try to curl himself into me more than once a day. i ignore the fact that it is a 48 inch long frame with angular skinny limbs and tuck it into myself as best i can, because i know this won’t last forever.

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his favorite part of the song: “if i could be yours, and you could be mine, our cozy little world would be twice as nice.”

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we have long since outgrown sandra boynton’s board books, but i think personal penguin would have come back around as an early reader if he didn’t already have it memorized. you can download the song on her website, which i did five whole years ago when quinn was one, and you too can listen to ­­­­davy jones of the monkees as you follow along in the book.

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if you were in our car, you would get to hear quinn copying davy’s british accent impeccably, without matching a single note whatsoever.

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