PB turned 5 on Saturday. And he’s in the middle of a growth spurt. Clothes that fit fine last week leave his wrists sticking out several inches. My 5lb4oz baby’s a small boy who can put together legos and tell elaborate tales of adventure. He’s starting to read and write.
I’m so proud of my Poka Bear, who won’t actually let me call him that anymore, but I still miss my baby. And I feel old.
The birthday party went well. Too bad he’s not allowed to inivte school friends. The policy there is everybody of nobody and, as my house is small and it’s freezing out, that means nobody. Poor kid.
I’m always nervous with the potentially explosive mix of family and friends we have all crowded together. But somehow they all manage to bite their tongues and be nice for a few hours for my kids.
We ate cake out of a dump truck. That’s right. Really. I served “dirt, mud and rocks” in the back of a huge Tonka. It was much easier than last years Little Bear cake. If not quite as cute as the year he had a track hoe digging a hole in his cake. I’m not very good at the neat, pretty frosting thing so I get clever. I’ve built cakes with foil rail road tracks. I like making boy cakes, they like it if their cake can pass for a load of fill. I managed a few flowers for J’s cake last year. But I have no idea what to do for this year.
Oh yes, my littlest baby turns 2 exactly one month after my bigger baby turns 5. Sigh. They grow up to fast. I blinked and suddenly there’s this little man in my house who thinks he doesn’t need my any more.