This is five:
Five wears stickers on his shirt, which is getting to be too small and bares a wee bit of belly, Spider-Man light-up sneakers, and a face half-painted to look like Iron Man. Five has swagger to spare.
Five is a whole hand. It is no longer a baby, not even a toddler or a preschooler. Five is a big deal. After the slow, rickety, listen-to-every-click-of-the-wheels climb to the top of the rollercoaster that is the first four years of parenting, five lets you pause for just a moment at the apex. In the brief stillness, you suck your breath in as you look back on the journey that brought you there, anticipating the free fall and the loop-de-loops beneath you that will carry you toward adolescence and teenagerland and the great beyond. Five is both an end and a beginning.
Five is silly. Five is savvy. Five is blessedly unselfconscious and bold. Five is tall enough to ride bigger rides, to jump off high dives, to swim from end to end of the pool. Five can take on the monkey bars and zip lines successfully with nary a glimpse of fear. Five still holds your hands with small but sure fingers in crosswalks, still wants to snuggle at night, and still tells you he loves you without hesitation. Five can be an exasperating master at the art of whining and cajoling, but he also listens to reason a little bit more than his 4-year-old brethren. Five wears his heart on his sleeve. Five has an uninhibited belly laugh that is positively infectious.
Five goes to Kindergarten, to the world of big kid school: a graduation for both child and (often sniffly, incredulous) parent. We spend years wishing for maybe just another hour of preschool, for just a little time before the overtired and needy chaos returns home. Suddenly, we find ourselves in the thick of full-time school, and we miss that chaos. We miss the endless questions, the “Mommy, look at me!” We miss PBS Kids providing the background soundtrack of our weekday mornings (just me?) We mourn the loss of the majority of our children’s waking hours. We feel, more acutely, the ache of the passage of time. Five shows us how fast it goes.
Five is excited to dress up on Halloween and understands what it is and what it means — CANDY — but little five-year-old legs, even when dressed as superheroes, are still not quite ready to trick-or-treat for hours on end yet. They might require Daddy’s shoulders or a wagon to carry them instead. But 5-year-old hands never tire of holding bags full of candy.
Five makes handprint turkeys at Thanksgiving, but he won’t eat anything except a little bit of turkey and some macaroni and cheese on the big day, along with a roll or three or six. Don’t let the turkey touch the macaroni, though, or there will be a very angry, suddenly-not-at-all-hungry 5-year-old giving you the big old stink-eye. Don’t expect that the corn muffins he loved yesterday will still be acceptable today, either. Try to keep up.
Five still believes in Santa Claus. He writes a Christmas list in big, scrawling, often backwards letters with a possibly broken crayon. On his list: “1. A TV for my rum. 2. My own rum. 3. Legos.” Five wakes up early every day before Christmas and searches for his Elf on a Shelf, whom he has named “Winter” because that’s what his class elf is named, of course. Five goes to the holiday carnival and gets his face painted like a reindeer. Rudolph, natch.
Five is impossibly bigger than his baby sister, but also still so little next to his big brothers. His baby face thins out and reveals the boy and young man he will look like; his baby belly begins to fade from view as his torso lengthens. Five has a first wiggly tooth that hangs on forever until it can do tricks like a Cirque du Soleil performer in his mouth and then finally falls out — a moment both horrifying and giddy. Five can dress and undress himself, but still struggles to unbutton his shirt or a stubborn pair of shorts sometimes. He proudly wears his superhero underwear. Five is not too cool to hold baby dolls with the girls on the playground. He even brings his own one day.
Five loves nothing more than a potty word, a fart joke, or a naked booty dance, especially if he can take his mother by surprise. He’s the perfect sidekick to an older brother and his favorite thing — besides Minecraft or Skylanders — is his baby sister, to whom he coos and sings daily. Five is happy to turn on the baby “thermometer” (aka the monitor) to watch the baby while she sleeps, and he never fails to steals her pacifier from her mouth “because I can’t see her smile!”
Five is often the moment when a parent experiences true, authentic magic: the switch flips, the light turns on, and suddenly, a child can read. I’m on my third 5-year-old, and watching a child learn to read and write never gets any less amazing. Five asks, “How?” and “Why?” and also how to spell words about a zillion times, but you comply and spell everything out because it’s so cool that your child can write. To bear witness to a 5-year-old is to watch a miracle of expression and learning unfold every day. Sometimes, that expression will make you cry, like when he decides to use his new letters and words to write a love note to his baby sister.
Five still has a hard time getting ready and off to school in the mornings, but reports that every day was a “GREAT DAY!” His favorite hotel is the “H” hotel — the Holiday Inn. Five loves spontaneous trips to playgrounds and after-school trips to the ice cream shop for vanilla ice cream with gummy bears on top. Five covets the caterpillars for sale at the Farmer’s Market every Saturday. Five brags to his little classmates that he knows just what to get you for your birthday — pink jewelry.
This is five. Five is love and magic and independence and wonder and innocence. Hold on tight to this moment before the rollercoaster tips over the edge and takes you with it. Five does not last, but it is impossible to forget.
This is the fifth installment in our blog series This is Childhood. You can see the first four posts (ONE, TWO, THREE, and FOUR) linked here. Check back every Tuesday as we visit each age as viewed by a different writer and mother.
Oh, Allison, how I love this piece. I’ve read it probably six times since Sunday and each time I trip over a different line, a different image, but every time I cry. I remember when he was “baby B” and not even walking. Sigh. Thank you for so vividly capturing this moment in childhood (and in motherhood). xox
Oh Five.
Allison, this is so wonderful. You captured this age, which I already miss, perfectly. And the photos. He is absolutely edible and precious and I want to sweep him up in a hug.
xo
I love these words – and pictures – so so much. I’ve been to the Land of Five once and this makes me excited to visit two more times. It is indeed a wonderful age. xox
Oh Allison – this is all so perfect. So five! Now I need to ask my girls if they’ve heard of Minecraft. LOL xo
I love the love note to Lucy. How beautiful.
I’m so lucky, I have two times to look forward to Five!
Also? Why does Five seem SO much bigger than Four?
Chills and goosebumps as I saw my own girls reflected in this piece. Thank you for the image of the roller coaster teetering at the top– I will keep it in mind as my last child turns 5 in a couple of months. Your magic, as always, has cast a spell upon all of us. Hugs. p.s. The baby doll photo was my favorite part, of course.
As I read this, my thirteen year old son is sitting across the room for me. If I try very hard, can conjur up the image of him at five – his little hands, his little voice. Those memories of five are precious. Thanks so much for stirring them up for me today.
Also, I, too, would like my own rum.
Oh, this is so beautiful and so poignant. My little guy is three, so five is a ways away, yet, but you make it sound pretty grand.
Allison, I love you and I love your writing! But I have to bring another voice, through my tears: the voice of the mother of an 11 year old who still cannot do what your 5 year olds could all do, because he has autism. He cannot reason, he is prone to outbursts, he still scratches and occasionally bites my shoulder. But he can swagger, and he can swish the basketball through the hoop with surprising frequency, and he loves to clean and straighten up and hug our Shih Tzu. And he loves to talk to “guys” doing all sorts of jobs out there in the world, and to watch You Tube videos of trash trucks and Hibachi chefs. He may never run and jump on the playground with wild abandon, but he will happily line up his immense miniature taxi collection, snaking the cabs around the playroom carpet, narrating their journey from train station to restaurant to airport, where they patiently wait in line at Terminal A until the dispatcher, who is always named “Bob,” whistles for them.
My son is 11 going on 7 or 8… and I am his biggest cheerleader, when I’m not collapsing, exhausted, behind closed doors. He has other cheerleaders, too: his other mom, his physical therapist, speech therapist, occupational therapist, and a cadre of special education teachers and reading and math specialists. Oh, and the behavior therapist, who takes him for a time out when he just can’t keep it together in the noisy lunchroom.
Thanks for listening, and remember us, the cohort of moms rooting for our special children. Our kids may miss the milestones achieved by their typical peers, but they pave a path through our hearts that is just as deep, and they take us on a journey of love, patience and resilience we could never have imagined.
Hi, Margot!
I do have you special moms of special kids in my thoughts every day. Someone very close to me is an adult on the deep end of the spectrum, and it is always and forever on my mind. Your children might not follow the same timeline of milestones as mine, but they certainly have just as many moments to cherish. Hang in there, mama!
I have only a handful of weeks left with my splendid girl being 5. My heart squeezes every time I think of her birthday approaching. And this piece perfectly describes the reasons why. Beautiful writing, Alison. As always.
Bravo! You’ve brought it all back to me, at a time when my youngest is a few years out of this darling age. Thanks for the trip down memory lane–you truly captured it.
Oh, this broke my heart wide open. Luminous! Now that I’ll never see five in my house again, I thank you for bringing it back to me today.
Oh Allison, five is a big deal, indeed. I love this piece, and your heart, and how your let your guy SHINE. xo
Lovely post, Allison, you captured the bittersweet beauty of growing perfectly. So glad I found you through Nina Badzin.
What a sweet boy you have. My stepson is 6 now and I remember 5 all too well. I can’t believe my daughter is closer to kindergarten now then she is to her birth. 5 is certainly a big age. THe age of kindergarten and a whole hand of fingers. Beautifully written, so happy to have found your blog today!
Your post inspired me to take my five year old out to lunch today and to look at him and listen to him a little more closely. I am madly in love with him, with this age – and your post nailed it precisely. I am holding on so tightly even while I thrill to the rising of the roller coaster. xo
Allison, this is so beautiful, so vibrant, so perfectly captured. Bravo!
I adored this post. I also cried a bit – mostly because my oldest – my sweet, wonderful boy – has only two days left of being five! I’m not ready for six. I found five to be almost universally delightful and a year of major transitions for him and for me
I’ll have to wait until June when my middle one – my Sunshine Girl – turns five to enjoy another year of its wonder.
Thanks for this and I’m so glad to have found your blog!
Marilee
momnbeans.blogspot.com
Beautiful words! Love it and especially love the “try to keep up.” SO true!
You have had me all gooey about five since reading this. So wonderful. I so love getting to read stories from moms of boys, something I know nothing about!
This is positively lovely. just gorgeous writing and I love this series. Thank you for sharing your 5 with us.
oh, mama!! i bawled my way through this this morning and then just did it again now. you have written, word for word, our son – right down to the snuggles and the tired trick-or-treating legs and the sidekick to big brother and doting on the baby sister, and everything in between. i have figured out, from your past writing, that our five-year-olds are very close in age. mine missed the kindergarten cut-off by 2 days. i fretted over that for a long time, only because he is very social and very precocious and was VERY ready to start *this* year and we (and all who know him) knew he’d thrive in school. yet…yet, when i stopped worrying about all that, i realized….i get a whole EXTRA year with him as a result….and for every single reason you wrote above, i am grateful for that every day. i feel like i got to steal these days with him. when the mommy crankies kick in, as they inevitably do, i remind myself of that and smile – and stop to listen a little harder and to look in those twinkling brown eyes a little longer, because these are precious days.
i so love your writing and am so happy to be able to read you all across the interwebz these days.
wishing you all the best from maryland.
Absolutely gorgeous! My youngest is almost 5 and I’m experiencing many of the same moments of joy and surprise. Well done, mama!
I loooved this one the most so far. My boy is three and I am now wanting to treasure every difficult moment while looking forward, but not too forward, to five. This is a beautiful tribute to the amazing little boy. I never thought about the loss of daytime to school, now I will, and already I do not like it… Thank you!
So wonderful to read this after spelling out the letters for my 5 year old to write on his valentines and wondering if in fact the tooth fairy was going to give him some money for that wiggle tooth that came out in his waffle yesterday (tooth fairy was apparently quite busy far away last night– yikes forgot after a tiring clinic day–but will hopefully be traveling this way tonight). You captured it so well, this was lovely, thank you! Ank
I’ve really enjoyed this series. Love the line about 5 being the apex of the roller coaster. So true.
I just LOVE LOVE LOVE this. It’s a perfect take on “five”. In two weeks, I get to live through a year of five again. This post made me so excited.
So beautiful! My daughter just turned 5 on Sunday, and like you, I felt myself wistfully looking back on the year that had just passed. The transition from 4 to 5 just feels like such a huge jump in her young life. Now, after reading your post, though, I’m looking forward to 5 with more excitement and not as many tears over what’s already gone. Thank you for helping me to look forward, not back! Bring on 5!
My son also just turned 5 on Sunday, and this was heartwarming and heartbreaking to read at the same time. I would like to take time and make it stand still, to breathe in every last moment, but I don’t want to miss the excitement to come. This post was so lovely. Thank you.
FIVE is amazing! Loved it. I love seven though too. We are reading chapter books and she makes up songs for me about nearly everything.
Just this morning I was snuggling my newly four year old son savoring the moment of perfection, when I jumped ahead and realized that in a year he will be five. Just as you describe, five is the tip of the roller coaster. This fourth baby of mine, my last, the end of the line is quickly ascending to the apex of being my little one and the long ride into being a kid, then a tween and a teen will begin. There is not choice but to enjoy the ride, but a part of me mourns then end of this time in my life as I enjoy watching him grow into the little person he is destined to be.
I have been enjoying reading the This Is Childhood series and FIVE was no exception! Beautiful! I have twin girls heading towards five this May. I think when they go to school this year and our two sweet birdies leave the nest for adventure each day, I will be reminded of how they are taking one more important step towards independence.
Hi, this is my first time here. I so loved this piece. My daughter will be turning 6 next month and I find myself clinging desperately to 5 so this really hit home for me.
You’re making me love FIVE even more, even as we’re right in the middle of it. Sigh. This was beautiful.
A beautiful piece! Would love to read your “This is Five” when your daughter reaches that milestone. I’m past my 3rd “Five”, my youngest, a girl, is now six (oldest is 21). This piece brings me back to the “Five” my oldest was so many years ago. I don’t know how old your other children are but I happen to think 10 is a pretty good age as well, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do (and 21 has many perks–seeing the adult your child has become is pretty darn amazing!)
Beautifully experienced and beautifully written.
Dwelling daily with Fabulous Fives is a magical adventure. That part I speak with the heart and eyes of one who teaches and learns from five-year-olds. I read your blog as a mother with tears streaming down my face. Fabulous Five changes to “almost 18″ in the blink of an eye. This is where we are in our household. And as we simultaneously grieve the passing of one season and celebrate the beginning of the next, I have treasured in my heart the precious moments of chasing pirates, digging for buried treasure, conquering rock mountains, building forts out of cushions, catching fireflies, cutting and wearing pillow cases as capes, quiet moments snuggling as we savored a good book and far too many memories to fit in a comments sections. Time passes by so quickly. Magical Five you have my heart!
Beautiful! Mine just turned five last week, and a friend pointed me here today after kindergarten registration.
Beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing. My youngest just turned 6, and it was hard to let 5 go.