But now I am SIX

We celebrated Liam’s birthday a few days early while we were in Virginia since he was sure his fifth birthday was no fun.  “Nobody came,” he told me over and over.  You know, little man.  I can remember one birthday party with friends when I was growing up.  I think we’ve been pretty spoiled having aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents so close; but the truth is, we all miss them. This time we decided to celebrate early to include some of them.

Liam wanted a basketball cake and I, like usual, gagged at the thought of decorator icing.  So we made another messy cream cheese frosting cake.  Or rather Mom did.  She kept the boys and made Liam’s cake while David took care of Zara and I shot a wedding. I got back just in time to help with the fun part which was ridiculously unfair.  I decided to call myself spoiled and enjoy it. 🙂 The cake actually looked pretty good immediately after we made it.  Unfortunately, I just had a hard drive issue and lost a ridiculous amount of pictures so the good picture is nowhere to be found.  By the time it sat overnight the colors bled like usual and David and I may or may not have felt snippety by the time we got it to the picnic table at the park with plenty of orange food coloring on us to prove it.  Then again, we got pulled over enroute for suspects of a stolen vehicle since we now have Maryland plates and haven’t pulled off the expired Virginia inspection sticker.  I’m sure the homemade cake I had to hand to David so I could pull the registration from the glove compartment showed us up as the hardened criminals we are not.

Liam was thrilled as usual.  He loves to affirm and be affirmed and he ate up the gifts and attention like it was candy.

Afterward we got to enjoy the weak sunshine that felt like March instead of May and took the children to feed the ducks.

Six feels like the big little boy version.  Still the little boy who loves having stories read to him and who loves bubbles so much he adds water to the bottle to stretch it.  But also the big boy who saved up his allowance to buy a carving knife.

He’s the lovey dove who makes up songs to sing to Zara and has music in his fingers when he touches the piano with his own compositions.  He is full of hugs and kisses and equally full of dramatic emotional swings.  He’s the one who most easily feels overwhelmed and copes by walking away and saying, “I just need some alone time.” He is darling.  But don’t tell him I said that.  Because he’s also big enough to not be cute or darling or anything else that might be remotely linked to babyish or girlish.

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