Because I have grown wise in my years, I mostly believe that you all love your children as much as I love mine. It's part of the growing belief in the minds of others that doesn't really kick off until you're about 27 and will probably fully ripen later on into middle age, when (I think) the last vestiges of youthful narcissism have been metabolized. So, okay, you love your kids as much as I do. I'll stipulate that. But wow, I love this one a whole heap.
Hank turned five last week, which is impossible because in my heart he is still three. Thank goodness his dial is still turned to max snuggle.
He is also prone to make koan-like pronouncements about the world. In the car last week, he mused, "Sometimes when you want to marry someone, it takes a long time for them to stop slapping you and say yes."
I didn't really know where to begin in responding to that. Because I didn't come to that realization until I'd reread F. Scott Fitzgerald's Tender Is The Night.
So what I'm saying is that you want this boy on your team, especially when it comes to slapping and/or matters of the heart.
Tomorrow we are having a birthday party for him and his buddies at one of those bounce house places. We invited all our neighborhood friends and last year's schoolmates as well. The grocery store is making us a cake with a dragon on it. And I am off to Party City to get stuff for goody bags. Ideas? We have 16 kids coming and I don't have that many bars of soap.