A Letter to Indigo at 5 Years Old

Happy birthday, little (big) man!

My, how time flies. It seems like just yesterday that you were a tiny screaming thing, and now here you are... a big screaming thing (when you get mad). Perhaps I'm feeling even more nostalgic as your baby brother Cyan cycles through all your old clothes. As I dress him in this or that I can picture so clearly you wearing it, what we did that day, what you were doing development-wise. It doesn't help that he looks quite a bit like you!

You've been doing so great at being a big brother. Sometimes, I think maybe you hardly care. But then I will be making dinner and he will be crying, and I hear your sweet voice singing a silly song you made up, and it calms him, and I know that you love him, and he loves you.

Sometimes, though, I think your renewed interest in biting when you get frustrated has something to do with Cyan, and with starting Kindergarten. But that's to be understood, somewhat, given what a year of changes it has been. But dude, stop. Time to work on those coping strategies again, kiddo. But we love you all the same.

You've been doing great in Kindergarten. Your handwriting has improved so much, and you are quick as a flash with the sight words every week. It's so exciting seeing you soak it all up. I hope you are as proud of yourself as I am of you.

You've also improved a lot in soccer, though I still want you to try baseball in the spring. You've got a nice arm, and a pretty sweet swing. Maybe that is more "your" sport. You've also started going to open tumbling sessions at a gymnastics place. You are slowly learning cartwheels, roundoffs, and other fun (and heart-attack inducing) things. I think it's really helping your confidence that you have something that is yours, that you don't share with Periwinkle.

I can't wait to see what this next year brings, how tall you will grow, what new topic will ignite your passion (we know so much about sea life thanks to Octonauts now). Keep asking questions, keep telling your silly stories, keep making up those songs. With an imagination like yours, there are no limits.

Love,
Mama