Six

Shout-out to the lovely folk at Blogger: "DUDES?! This was supposed to publish on 5/12/11. What gives? I'm pushing this to publish on 5/15/11. Sumpins fishy, Lucy."
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The Babe turned six this week.

Can I have a collective sigh for the fact that our baby isn't much of a "baby" anymore?

The Babe is planning to retire the book "It's Hard to Be Five" this weekend. Heavens to mergatroid if we should be reading about five-year-olds. They are completely immature and green compared to our sixter.

He is also proud of the fact that he has managed to get really tall in the last six months or so.

The irony of putting on height in this house is that I am the measuring stick against which they are being held up. I'm comparing them to where they hit my 5 foot 3 inch frame. So a growth spurt against good, old Mom is not saying much.

Regardless of where the top of The Babe's head hits my torso, when he walks into the kitchen in his pj's, I notice those legs that seem mile-long compared to just a few months ago.

There is age-old wisdom in the saying that "the age of your oldest is the age of your house". Shielding your youngest from the ills of the world, or his older brothers, is virtually impossible.

When they sing a lyric, he sings right along, often jumbling and confusing the words until all of us look at him like he has a alien sitting atop his beaner. Thankfully, the roughest the lyrics get around here is Radio Disney, so he hasn't learned all the new-fangled rap ways to explain to his compadres that he's shot someone.* But, he can belt out a mean Justin Bieber.

Though Nickels and Hooman think they are all that when they dance, Babe is teaching them a thing or two. His popping and hip action and head movements are banned in India and Southern Baptist Churches. Swear to you, someone needs to revive "Dance Fever" just so he has a forum to showcase these crazy steps.**/***

Fortunately, the closest he's come to learning something naughty to say is "Girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider." He discovered that charming phrase on his birthday, at the playground, waiting for Nickels to be up-to-bat at his ball game. No, this didn't come from either of the brothers; it came from the youngest child of another family. There's just sumpin about those youngests.....

Happy Birthday week sweetheart! Mom and Daddy love you fiercely and we promise not to let your brothers sell you for profit.



*We are SO INCREDIBLY NOT gangsta around here.

**He gets that ability to move from his Daddy but Mike hasn't given him any lessons. So, I chalk it up to nature.

***If you drive by the Nowell joint someday and see Madonna standing on our front porch trying to convince The Babe to join her 60-something-tour, don't worry, I'll kick her and her coney-bra straight to the curb.