We've been holding Silas's 5th birthday over his head for a little while now, telling him that if he wanted to turn 5, he needed to start acting like a big boy. We may have subtly implied that we had some power over whether or not the big day happened.
Is that terrible? I mean, don't answer that.
Desperate times, people.
And then, one day, he just started acting 5, or at least somewhere in the vicinity.
As told to my mom and dad, over the phone: "I'm a big boy now! I don't act naughty anymore...I don't hit...I don't cause trouble...I don't scream...No body calls me a maniac..." :)
(For the record, it was mostly Calvin who called him a maniac. Mostly.)
We thought we'd better hold up our end of the deal and let him turn 5.
So we strung up the paper plate birthday banner and got down to business.
(So cute when kids get all embarrassed during Happy Birthday!)
The kids acted like we were presenting them with platters of fair food, caffeine pop, and Krispy Kremes.
Life Lesson :: Set your own bar fairly low. You'll never regret it.
Homeboy does not play with toys. Ever.
For two years in a row I've been asked to fill out a pre-school questionnaire listing, among other things, his "favorite toy", to which I reply: "Silas doesn't play with toys." Both years I feel bad, like maybe it wasn't the right time for complete honesty.
He begs for light switches, small empty containers with interesting lids, extension cords, night lights, flash lights, and an actual computer of his own.
He recently deactivated our screen saver in a matter of minutes. He cannot see a button without pushing it. He's the best kind of weird, that's all I'm saying.
He spontaneously cheered!
his birthday treat. (So good.)
It's a lot of birthdaying, not gonna lie. But every year, we somehow feel luckier than the last.
We got a really great batch of kids. They match us quirk by imperfection. I'm a complete goner over the way God put us all together, so sure that what we needed was each other.
Happy Birthday, Silas.
You really are 5.