Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Birthday Boy, Age 6

I'm home from work, talking on the phone.  Helping Hubby draft an e-mail to his baseball team and coordinating our dinner plans for the night before Hubby arrives home from work.

He sits next to me as I'm on the phone.  Chattering to me and at me.

Reciting movie lines.

Out of his little not-yet-6-years-old mouth comes a swear word.  He glances sideways at me to see if he's garnered my attention.

He certainly has.

I briskly get off the line with Hubby to perform my duty of reprimanding yet mothering.

I send him to his room, wayyyyy against his will as he rolls on the floor, sobbing in desperate futility.  He slowly crawls up the stairs and slithers into his bedroom.

I leave him alone for 5 minutes.

And then I enter, ready to lecture, yet forgive.

As soon as I start talking, out of his freshy little mouth comes "Blah blah blah Mom, I don't wanna talk to you."

It takes all I have not to lose my cool with him.

I leave again to collect myself, KNOWING that he would NEVER speak to his father like that.  (Which is entirely completely frustrating.)

Upon my re-entrance, I bark my orders at him:  "You get in the shower right now and get your pajamas on.  You will be going to bed right after dinner."

He cries, of course.

Instantly sorry.

At 6:18pm, he is in bed for the night, abruptly rushing away from the dinner table in tears, his uneaten plate of food remaining.

He doesn't like the fact that I am relaying the Saying of the Swear Word Story to his father.

So he flees.

And the rest of us continue on with our meal.

After the table has been cleared and the dishes done, I tentatively walk upstairs to check on him.

He is fast asleep, burrowed under his covers, the remaining daylight still streaming through his bedroom windows.

I enter carefully, sidling over near him to pull down the window shade.

He doesn't even stir.

I gently brush his silky brown hair off his forehead and kiss him gently.

He is my toughie.  My newly-6-yet-going-on-16-year-old.  Wise beyond his years, simply by virtue of being my thirdborn son.

Yet he sucks his thumb and drags his blankie around.

He's mouthy and mischievous.

Yet witty and caring.

His only speed is FAST.

Yet he falls asleep on the couch every.single.night.  Exhausted from his non-stop day of adventure.

I swear, this kid is gonna be the death of me.

My Baby who is

Happy Birthday, buddy.  Momma loves you.


Jennifer said...

All that reprimanding stuff is hard. It would be awesome if we could just cuddle all the time.

Manic Mommy said...

I really, really liked five. Six has been a little rocky. Hoping you're not in for the same.

No matter what, we smooth their hair and kiss their cheeks and whisper "I love you" because we do.

Happy Birthday, Baby.

Shell said...

He is such a cutie! And sounds like my 3rd born boy. Mine is younger, so we're not there yet, but I can see it coming.

Stefanie said...

My eyes. They welled with tears!

I know it's just a blog but I remember reading about your Baby when he actually was a baby. Happy birthday, little boy!

Adrienne said...

oh, the 'swears' that came out of the little mouthy mouths. i'd all but forgotten about them when I found a father's day card my son made for his dad (i'd put him between 5 and 6) with a batman car on the front and a promise not to say any more swears inside!

Rebecca said...

I love...his only speed is fast. So true!

lesley said...

Wow, this describes my #3 exactly!! He's only 2... nice glimpse of what I have to look forward to. I have a feeling it'll be less than 4 years before I get the swear words, though. I'll try to remember your technique and not lose my cool :-)


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