Tuesday, November 20, 2012

William Nash, Age 6

Dear William,

You are both my easiest and hardest child to raise.

You are easy-going. I didn't know what a tantrum was until your sister was born. You take life's disappointments as no big deal are always content with "maybe next time."

You sleep like a dream. From five weeks of age you were sleeping through the night. To this day you sleep 12 hours every night and still find time for a nap somewhere during the week. A wrecking ball in the side of your bedroom wall could not wake you.

You love people. Transitions have never been an issue for you. You leaped into preschool. Sprinted into kindergarten. Eager to please. Excited to learn. You've never looked back.

You make friends with strangers just walking past our house. You think everyone wants to play with you all the time and have a hard time understanding why they wouldn't.

You are constantly seeking my attention. You do not like to be alone. Ever.

You always need something to do. You always need something to talk about it.

It is difficult for you to finish a meal in a timely manner because you are perpetually in conversation.

You like to be close to people. Your cold feet drifting over under mine when we're under the covers in the morning. Or insisting on practically sitting on top of your sister on the couch.

You love superheros. And Star Wars. And football in the backyard.

You adore school. You are reading now and it makes my heart pitter patter with joy. Last week you read The Cat in the Hat from cover to cover to me all by yourself. It comes so easy to you.

You like to ask questions. SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Mom, why did God make lying?

Mom, how do you know when it's time for the baby to come out?

You are a horrible joke-teller. We need to work on that.

You are a great helper. Helping Lucy with her shoes. Carrying Katherine away from danger. Opening the garage. Fetching me items from the basement frig.

Love doesn't even begin to describe how you feel about your sisters.

But you still desperately want a brother. When I ask you how you might feel if the new baby is another sister you casually say, "That's OK because then the next baby will a boy."

I found myself not being too sentimental about your sixth birthday. You are so ready to be six. It feels like you've already been six for the past few months.

Tonight, the night before your sixth birthday, I tucked you in to bed. I blew you a kiss and you caught it and then you blew me a kiss and I caught it just like we do every night.

And then, ten minutes later, you were out of your room.

"MOM! DAD!" You exclaimed. And you opened your hand to reveal your first lost baby tooth in the palm of your hand.

And just like that I got sentimental.

Because that little tiny tooth that lay there, dead in your hand, I remember feeling that for the first time when my finger swept across your baby gums for any signs of teething.

The little tooth that emerged when you were sixth months to remind me you were growing up. And now the little tooth that fell out when you were six years to remind me that you're growing up even more.
William, I am so proud of who you are becoming.  You play your part in our family as the eldest boy with such perfection.  You never get enough of my time but you are always near to my heart because you were my first.  I am so delighted to call you my son.  And so honored to get to be your mother.

Happy sixth birthday, William.  Today is your day.

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