Max is Five

I ask Max how long he has been waiting to turn five. He says, "Since I was born."

He was the up this morning. I could hear him downstairs, jumping up and down, saying "now I can jump high!" Immediate transformation.

Then he ran back and forth and up and down the stairs. "I am so fast." Five is fast.

When he was getting ready for school, I said, "Max. Wear your shoes but bring your boots. It's muddy out. Your boots are in your room. Put them in your backpack. Your backpack's in there too." To which he responded, "Oh man. I'm five. Now I can tie. Where are my tie shoes?" he asked as he he moon-walked backwards out of the room. When he returned to the kitchen, he did not bring his boots or his backpack. But his shoes were on his feet. They weren't tie shoes but they were velcroed well. He's so close to being able to tie his shoes. Maybe by tonight--his birth-time is 10:52 p.m. We should let him stay up late.

Yesterday, he brought me his Curious George book. "So. I can read now, right?"  He opened the book. The words read "Kite." He said, "Kangaroo." I said, "Close. Even when you're five, you'll still need a little practice." I wouldn't put it past him if in the 24 hours he learns to read. He's a goal-setter. Five has been destiny and destination for awhile. Five is it.

Last fall, Zoe and I went to Salt Lake without him. He really wanted to go even though it was for a girl's only wedding shower. I am planning a trip this January to Salt Lake. I said in front of him aloud, dumbly, "Maybe just Zoe and I will go." He came up to me, put both elbows on my knees, put his chin in his hands and and said, "C'mon mom, give me a chance." I booked him a plane ticket. Five is persuasive.

Tonight we will have pizza because when asked what his favorite food is, he says, "Hmm. Let me think. Turkey. No. Chicken nuggets, no. Lasagna. No. Soup. No." A hundred foods later, we remind him about pizza. "Yes. Pizza. Pizza is my favorite food."

He will get three boxes of Legos. That's all he wanted because "Daehan (his good friend) does all the Legos by himself and he's five so I will do all the Legos by myself too." (Zoe likes the Legos too. When he was 4, she did the 8 and up ones for him. Now that he's five,  we'll have to get both of them twice as many sets."

Max is cuddly bear. He jumps into my arms, puts his head on my shoulder. When he does that, I call him Mr. Squishy. He still likes me to pick him up but I can tell that in the last couple of weeks, he's been hugging less, holding me at arm's length. When I ask him if he'll still be squishy when he's five, he shrugs his shoulders all the way up to his ears and says, "I not know."

My hope for Max's fifth year is that his quotes remain as quotable and his person remains a little squishy too.