It’s time to look back again and wonder, baffled, how small boy has arrived at another birthday. It was the same last year. The time seems to just fly past so quickly.
What’s more, he’s grown and grown up so much in the last year. He’s very nearly 120cm tall, sprouting about 7cm in the last twelve months – wearing his brother’s age 6 and 7 hand-me-downs since Christmas. But it’s not just the physical growth that’s astounding. His character is really coming out and he’s showing himself to be the kind, caring individual we hope that he will remain.
He Loves Company
In the last year, like so many, small boy has spent large periods of time away from his friends and away from school. His fierce attachment to large boy has burned ever stronger, and luckily his brother doesn’t seem to mind (most of the time). But, despite floods of tears before returning to school in March, he seems to have come out more confident, gregarious and happier to play with his classmates than he was before. His teacher tells me that he has a secure friendship group but that he also goes out of his way to gather up children who don’t have anyone to play with. From time to time, he tells me how much fun he had playing with someone who had been waiting on the friendship bench at lunch time. He’s reaching out with open arms to welcome other children into his games. Lately, its been families. How nice not to hear about PJ Masks or Power Rangers…. No, he’s the daddy and there’s a mummy and two kids and a dog – I’m not sure how the little girl feels about being cast as a dog but I do love hearing about them playing such traditional games. It’s wonderful seeing him blossom, discover himself, and form friendships with the other kids.
That’s not to say that he isn’t also a total mummy’s boy! He loves nothing more (at the moment) than to sit on top of me and stroke, pat and cuddle while we watch dinosaurs on TV, or read a book together. Until he changes the tone of the moment by blowing a raspberry on my stomach – because he’s a hilarious little joker too. His bedroom door is currently adorned with pages of A4, scribbled on with messages to anyone who passes by. “I hate reading” he claims.
He Loves Reading
Yep, definitely a comedian. He doesn’t hate reading at all. He loves it. He reads everything he sees and delights in telling us what things say, from shopping lists to menus. There’s no more getting away with telling him this pub doesn’t do chicken….He’s been contributing to my monthly reading round up for a while now, and he’s been going from strength to strength since the spring of this year. He’s reading chapter books and I can’t wait to tell you what he thought of The Book of Lost Spells this week. His teacher says if she had a harder reading group, he’d be in it, he’s very much ready for the next school year despite being the youngest in his class.
His humour comes out again though, he thinks its so funny to stop reading aloud mid-sentence and finish the paragraph or page in his head, only to read the whole thing fluently once he’s done. He laughs so hard when he reads a “hard” word and shows me that I don’t need to help him. Oh I’m so excited for him and the world of books that lies in front of him.
He Shows Emotions
Alongside his, sometimes dreadful, strong sense of humour and fun, small boy is also an open book with his emotions. Bit like his mum that way really. When he’s upset, he lets the tears flow and doesn’t hide how he feels. When he’s happy, the joy overflows too. When he’s not sure, he backs off and tried to avoid whatever it is he doesn’t want to do. All that honesty is admirable, I wish more people were so easy to understand.
In his own words
I’m weird, always cold when it’s hot and hot when it’s cold, crazy, a pig, kind, jumpy, funny, zizou.(I have no idea what zizou is.)
… and now he’s 6
So happy birthday to our cheeky, loving, tender, sweet, stubborn, fierce, funny, bright, frank, little boy is six.
I’m sorry we didn’t get you an elephant after all, but it’s been a fun week pretending to have one hiding in the spare room. There’ll be no more blaming farts on the elephant upstairs, it’s not a pygmy one small enough to keep in the garden, and you can’t train it to batter down your brother’s bedroom door.