Finally Five

Gavin turned a whole handful of fingers today, waving his hand at me this morning saying, "I'm five!" as he dashed past me like the years have, full of energy and determination—growing and changing faster than I can say, "Slow down!" Faster than I can catalog here.

Not long ago, he told me he thought he'd skip five and move right on to six, but today, it seems as if five fits him well. So well, in fact, that he said he felt taller today and asked that I measure him to see if he'd reached the five-foot mark. Five is a big deal.

Five feels like the intersection of little boy and big kid, where there are still snuggles before bed, but also a whole lot of "I can do it myself." Lots hand-holding and extra hugs, but also "no more kisses, Momma."

He's so many things at five. So much of the sweet, gentle, cautious boy we've always known, but slowly, new branches are shooting out of his personality to reveal other sides, too. Smart. Funny. Stubborn. Goofy. Brave.

At five, he's struggling with growing up, and anxious about new things and new people. He reaches out to us constantly for support, and we're trying to be there consistently while still pushing him forward into independence a little at a time.

At five, he writes confidently as long as you spell the words for him. I hear him sounding out words, and though he's not reading yet, I know it's not far off. My favorite take-homes from daycare these days are love notes with all the letters running together.

At five, he's a master builder in Lego terms, and quick when it comes to puzzles. He pieces things together with a part of his brain that definitely didn't come from me. He's analytical, and good at basic addition.

At five, he is full of magic and wonder and innocence with a heap independence on the side, and I am so very glad he's mine.