Five

Happy birthday, Squeaker!!!

My boy is five years old today. The past five years have seemed so short...and so long. I can vividly recall the Friday of his birth, and that long weekend in the hospital, with my new little bundle squeaking quietly next to me. I was amazed and delighted and tired and horrified. I would have to take it home and figure out how to care for it, even though it couldn’t figure out how to nurse, it cried a lot, and it peed on me repeatedly.

When I look at his baby pictures, I am struck by how long it took to really get to know him. I spent years – literally! – caring for this little person I didn’t really know yet. Sure, I got inklings of his thoughts, his temperament, his character. But it takes time for that to become a full and complex personality, and even more time for parents to get to know that little person.

I know that he will change tremendously over the years as he grows through childhood into adulthood. But I bet the core Squeaker will stay very much the same. His interests and techniques for handling the world may change, but the squeaker essence is here to stay. That’s good, because I like him a lot. He is my sweetpea.

And I have to say that I am very proud of him. He loves words more than ever – he told me his block tower was “precarious” yesterday. When I told him that it felt like it was just yesterday that he was born, I asked him if he understood what I meant. He said yes, that he knew he wasn’t really born yesterday, and that saying it felt that way was kind of like a metaphor. I thought that was pretty good – he associated the non-literalism of what I had said with the non-literalism of metaphors.

Sometimes I think his chatter will drive me crazy. The boy talks and talks and talks. But he says the most interesting things. And his imagination is as active as ever. When I took him to school earlier this week, he went up to his teacher and told her she’d need to be pretty careful not to step on his tail, because dragons have really long tails. He was Daniel the Dragon...at least for the morning. The other mothers smiled at me in amusement, but I hadn’t even thought much about it. He is always Someone Else.

Some days, he is a knight. Or he might be a griffin (he has a toy one he named Byron), a brownie, a sea monster, or a wolf. My mother watches him and marvels about what it must be like to wake up each day as anyone you’d like to be. As grown ups, we could pretend, I suppose. But he embraces whatever it is with every bit of himself – he inhabits the creatures of his imagination in a way that you simply cannot do once you grow into adulthood. He truly believes he can be anything.

I hope he will continue to enjoy his rich imagination for many years. I hope his love of words never wanes – playing with language is so much fun. I hope being five holds many delights for him, from new movies and books to crab feasts, beach trips, and the first day of kindergarten. I look forward to witnessing the awe in the Pipsqueak’s face as he continues to watch the Squeaker with unabashed admiration and adoration. What the Squeaker does, the Pipsqueak tries to do. The Pipsqueak thinks the Squeaker is the funniest, most entertaining, silliest, most fun, and best person ever.

Oh Squeaker, my Squeaker, how I love you.

Baby in the Spout

The pipsqueak thinks there is a baby in the bathroom water spout.

He likes to stand in the tub even though I try, unsuccessfully, to make him sit. And he likes to stand by the faucets, which are just out of his reach. The spout, however -- where the water comes out -- is intriguing to him. He can easily reach it, and he likes to try to put his toys inside it. The last time he was standing there, trying to stuff a plastic fish into the pipe, he caught sight of his reflection in the shiny silver-colored spout.

His eyes widened, and he leaned very close -- so close that his nose touched the metal -- and he peered in. The reflection in the spout is kind of bizarre and misshapen, almost like the reflection in a spoon or other curved surface. But I guess he saw those big blue eyes peering back at him pretty clearly. Then he stood up abruptly, looked at me, and exclaimed, "Baby!!!" He peered in again, and then laughed out loud. He found it so funny and so remarkable that he actually called to his papa, who was in the next room, so that HE would come and see the baby, too. ("Papa, papa! Baby!!)

I thought maybe he'd be concerned that the baby was trapped, but he wasn't. Maybe this was because the baby was so busy smiling and laughing back at him. I did try to explain that HE was the baby, but he just looked at me as if I were very confused.

Strange Squeaker

Squeaker: Mama, why do you love me?

Me: Because you are funny and smart, thoughtful and kind, sweet and silly...

Squeaker: And strange?

Me (laughing): Yes, a little strange. It's good to be strange!

I have no idea where that came from. :-) I really don't tell my boy he is strange! Maybe someone else did?

Uh Oh!

The pipsqueak and I have had some profound moments of communication

First, he loves this book called Good Night, Gorilla. I don’t know why he loves it so much. He carries it around and flips through the pages lovingly. He studies each picture carefully. So earlier this week he was gazing at the pictures, and I asked him if he loved that book.

In response, he leaned down and gave it a kiss – “smack!” (He makes a loud smacking sound when he gives kisses.) I thought it was so funny that he connected the word “love” with a kiss. I suppose that all day long I say to him, “I love you so much!” and then I give him a big smooch!!

The day before, I was unloading the dishwasher when he came flying into the room and (barely) skidded to a stop. “Uh oh! Uh oh!” he said, and he pointed to the living room. He watched to be sure I would follow, and then he toddled off, checking over his shoulder now and then to see that I was just behind him. He skittered over to the couch and pointed behind it, chattering “uh oh!” the whole time. So I look behind the couch and I see the ball that he was throwing a few minutes earlier. It’s wedged between the couch and the wall, and he can’t get it out. I thought it was pretty cool that he came to get my help, and that he communicated his distress so clearly!

He is at a supercute age, and all I want to do is kiss him and squeeze him.

The squeaker squeezes him a lot, too. The two of them are getting along beautifully. I am amazed at how well the squeaker has handled becoming a big brother. He does get jealous at times, but he is nearly always kind and patient with the pipsqueak. Today, the squeaker is sick. This is his second illness in the last three weeks. He has a fever and barely moved off the couch yesterday. I had to work today, and I know his grandma is taking good care of him, but I will be glad to get home and give my squeaker some love.