mGuy turns SIX! (Really? Six?)

I'm going to put this post on top for now, but later I'm going to re-date it for his actual birthday (12/29) so he'll never know it was late! (I'm blaming it on the bastard computer hackers.)

My little mGuy is 6.

I think he will always be a toddler in my mind. Because he was THE CUTEST toddler EVER. And the easiest. mGuy was actually the easiest kid on EARTH... until he turned 5. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

He was born on a dark winter's night, barely an hour after I walked into the hospital, just 4 days after Christmas.

When the excitement and frenzy (and let me tell you - my nurse was FRENETIC!) of his rapid (and therefore unmedicated, OUCH) arrival died down and it was just he and I, snuggled together in my hospital bed at 3 in the morning, I sang him Silent Night. (There hasn't been much silence since then, but it was nice while it lasted.)

I didn't know it then, but he would be my Snuggler. Big Guy never liked to be held and to this day, bristles at touch. mGal was always too squirmy, too hyper, too active (or, as a baby, too screamy) to hold for long. But mGuy loved to be held. To nestle his little face in the hollow of my throat.

And even as he has grown into a big 6-year old, he still likes to sneak into our room in the middle of the night and plant himself in the warm spot between us. He will still sit on my lap and hold my hand. He runs out of school, arms outstretched, in bear hug position. He likes his back scratched and his head rubbed. It has been a singular delight to revel in the touch of one of my kids.

mGuy's face has always reminded me of the dramatic comedy mask




and also of a little gnome. His smile and twinkling eyes (and more and more often his behavior) are impish.



Until he turned 5, he was the most agreeable, happy, easy-going kid I ever met. Last year, he suddenly discovered his temper, and will unleash it with sudden and startling intensity. He's more than earned his right to that temper, spending 5 years as the easy-going middle child, the one who went along with the flow so well that he occasionally often got lost in the shuffle of his more demanding siblings.

But no more. He demands attention. Justice. Intervention. And he deservedly receives them. (Because he has learned to be a champion whiner if he doesn't.)

He is the child who keeps me honest. He makes sure that I don't get so lost in my own thoughts, or activities, or predisposition to routine that I forget to listen to his stories, to look at his Lego creations, or scratch his back.

He forces me to celebrate holidays and birthdays with gusto and enthusiasm (and a LOT of homemade decorations). When my natural tendency would be to keep my head down, focused on the many menial tasks at hand, he forces me to look at the wonder and joy of every season and holiday, and any day he deems special. We have been calling him Mr. Christmas, but really, he's Mr. Holiday. His love of celebrating has made our lives richer.

With so many kids in the house, and so much physical work to do everyday, I often feel that I miss out on observing the subtleties of their personalities. There were a few times this summer that I was privileged to get a glimpse of the little boy growing inside of my eternal toddler.

We took a trip and mGuy got settled in his room and unpacked his suitcase. On the nightstand next to the bed, he laid out an interesting vignette... his children's Bible, an empty vanilla bottle (he has a strange obsession with them because he loves the smell of vanilla) and a Chap Stick. (Reminded me of a little old man.)

On that same trip, he was the only one who was excited to visit the Statue of Liberty and learn of its history and symbolism. As a reward for being the only agreeable kid, I bought him a miniature Statue of Liberty, which he still shows off to every visitor we have.

I look forward to the years ahead of us. He is the keeper of our family traditions. The planner of celebrations. The lover of the past, things of vintage or sentimental value, that remind him of special days, or things we have done together, or perhaps, just smell of vanilla.




Happy Birthday, Middle Guy!