Tonight I’m that strange, indecisive mix of both very happy and very sad. I just said goodbye to my four-year-old. Cuddled her. Kissed her. Snuggled her. Then shut the door on my very favorite kid age.
It’s not the first time. The first time was in July 2004. I knew there was pure magic wrapped up in that four-year-old little boy, but I was nursing a newborn and potty-training a two-year-old, and really, more than anything, I just wanted someone in that house to be a little bit more grown up and self-sufficient. And to go to kindergarten for half a day, please.
The second time was in September 2006. By this time I was fully aware that four was my favorite age, and I made a big deal of saying goodbye to it. Made signs, took pictures, asked the child if she was sure she really wanted to do this, and eventually drove her to raging tears over turning five. She was up half the night trying to resist the aging process. Note to self: Don’t make a big deal of life transitions with the sensitive child.
Then came April 2009. Brooka as a four-year-old sucked up more from life than most of the adults I knew. When she turned five, it seemed like she should be at least eight. I always say Brooka was little for about ten minutes, and I must have been in the bathroom and missed it. Besides, she was not my baby, and my baby still had years to go before she’d be five.
Well, the years went, and now we’re there. The baby’s four for another ten hours, and tomorrow she’ll be five. The age when kids start to change. The age when they begin to get the hint that their mother is not the all-wise, all-beautiful, all-capable center of the universe. That could drive me into a full-fledged sobfest, but instead, I’ll try to remember all that is good about five. She’ll get to go to kindergarten, and Camryn will love kindergarten. She’ll learn to read, and she’ll love to read. She’ll learn to play soccer and rollerskate and swim in the deep end of the pool, and she’ll love being able to do those things with the big kids. She’ll try new foods and visit new places and make more new friends than we can count. She’ll also start to realize that I’m not perfect, and that’s not only OK, it’s crucial. I bet she’ll still say, “Mommy, let’s hold hands” when we walk out of the grocery store.
Yeah, maybe five is my new favorite age.
