Happy birthday! I have to tell you son, the years just keep on getting more and more fun. This year has been a whirlwind of activity and I am so happy to be able to call you mine.
We have been BUSY this year. This was the year of helping others; the year Uncle Jake and Aunt Reba and Chloe and Dakota lived with us for several months; the year Eli started walking (thus increasing your fun!); the year you started Piano lessons, the year you started sleeping on the top bunk.
I don’t even know where to start.
Here are some random facts about YOU at 5 years old:
Your favorite movie is “Big Hero 6”
Your favorite food is Chicken nuggets and fries from Chick Fil A.
Your best friends are Aedan and Kaley and Eli.
You have the best, sweetest prayers to God.
You dressed up as a fire fighter for Halloween, and made a Mario pumpkin (with Mom’s help!)
You’re obsessed with American Ninja Warrior. It’s not just them, though – your favorite superheroes are Thor and the Hulk – because, as you say, “They’re strong!”
We’ve spent a lot of time at Sea World – you love, love, love roller coasters. This season you’re tall enough to go on your own onto the kid rides, so you usually want to go without us. It’s bittersweet – we’re happy you’re confident and independent, but man, did it have to happen so soon?
Your personality has started to shine. You are excited and talkative and happy and talkative and did I mention you like to talk?
I apologize. You are just like I was at your age. Talk talk talk.
You were the ring bearer in your Great-Aunt Charla and Brad’s wedding. You were SO CUTE! And you proved that you are capable of standing still for a small period of time.
We went to your school orientation and you felt the need to tell the teachers all about how you were going to have to go to bed early for school 5 nights a week and how your Mom practices sight words with you and and and… I just sat there laughing. You reminded me so much of me!
So full of energy and so much to say and bright enough to know you’re smart but also not quite smart enough to know NOT to be a know-it-all. Hopefully we can instill some grace in you before you go to school.
We have been trying to teach you phonetics, but every time we try, we find out how convoluted the English language really is.
Sorry about that, son.
We have read so many amazing books this year. We read My Father’s Dragon (the trilogy, about 4 times in a row), Wizard of Oz, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Ghost Ship Mystery (Boxcar Children) and we are currently reading Stuart Little. I tried twice this year to read The Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe to you, but you’re just not quite ready for it. You only have so much patience.
You had a hard time with me going to work this year. It made you sad, often, which made me sad, but I hope you understand that I do what I do because I can help people, and because we have to pay bills and buy food! Responsibility sucks sometimes.
You love to be in the kitchen with me. I wish we had more time to do it, but when we do, you’re a fantastic helper. You help cut vegetables and bake cookies and anytime I ask, there you are. You burned yourself this year, your first cooking injury, and you were so impressed with yourself for not crying.
We’ve tried to teach you about the way the world works without breaking you – there’s so much awful things going on in our world right now but we try to focus on the positive. We try to tell you that there’s hope.
You love playing on the Wii and your tablet. You love technology, you love watching videos on YouTube. Your interests mystify your Dad and I, and we constantly struggle with allowing you free time and making sure you’re not abusing it or overusing it. Balance is hard, son, and we struggle with it even to this day.
You love babies. You love everybody, but you have a special place in your heart for the little cousins in your life – especially baby Dakota and baby Lilly. You love to hold them and kiss them and if we have to be careful to remind you not to roughhouse with them.
You love your brother so much it that it fills me to overflowing. I hope you can always be this close.
For Christmas this year you got a swingset, much to your amazement, and it has hands down been the most amazing investment ever. You love to practice “ninja warrior” on it and have perfected the art of swinging/jumping/etc.
You are such a handsome, happy kid.
This is the last year that we get to keep you to ourselves. This fall, you’ll start Kindergarten. I know it’s time, and I know you’re ready, but I can’t help myself from being so worried that the big, awful world is going to break your spirit. We’ve tried so hard to teach you about good and bad, to teach you grace, to instill in you a desire to do the RIGHT thing instead of the EASY thing. I worry it’s not enough, I worry your spirit will be worn down and that you will be beaten with reality like everyone else. I know it will – it’s part of growing up, it’s necessary, but it’s hurts that I can’t protect you from it. I want to keep you in a bubble and help you see the world like I see it now. I want you to skip the tough lessons. I want you to see the world with it’s beautiful brokenness and then have hope and faith and joy in spite of it all. However, I know (and your daddy knows) that we have to let you experience heartbreak, success, failure, triumph, and struggle for yourself. We know it’s a necessary right of passage.
That’s why we do things like sign you up for Piano lessons. You love them now, but we know the day will come that you’ll get tired or bored or frustrated and you’ll want to quit. And we won’t let you – and that will be hard for both us and you, but it will be an important lesson to learn. Perseverance in spite of personal preference is hard, but it’s a lesson worth learning.
I hope when you read this – whenever you do – you know that we tried so very hard to give you the tools you needed to navigate this world. We know it’s insufficient. We know we’re going to fail you.
But hopefullly the stuff we do right will outweigh the times we make mistakes. Hopefully we teach you grace enough to bear with us as we navigate through the next few years together. We’ve had some good times, Benjamin, but I suspect the best is still yet to come.
I love you to the moon and back and then back out into the stars,