Fox turned five at the end of August, and like any good, overworked mom, I’m a few days late (and a dollar short after the birthday gifts) in wishing him a proper birthday. And by wishing him a “proper” birthday, I mean the only way us millennials know how – through some type of social media or Interwebz platform. I did send him a text message with balloon emojis.
Straight uuuuup mommin’, ya’ll.
So to log my quota of web hours, I feel the need to document his five-year-old self through this blog post. And even though I have a Pinterest board chock full of scrapbook ideas, I still can’t get my shit together five years later, so I’m banking on this being his baby book one day. He can relive his childhood, complete with self-deprecating mom humor and embarrassing stories about how he likes to play fart tag.
Sorry, but if you’re reading this Future Fox, I hope you’re happy and healthy and dutifully making sure everyone still knows I’m funnier than your father.
Because I am. And if he says any different, it’s fake media.
I also hope you’re good about calling your mother.
So, here’s my five year letter to you, Kid. Now go call your mama.
How are you five years old already? I turned around for one second, and you went and had five birthdays. I’m over here still getting used to the idea that there’s a little human that belongs to me. Give me another five years before it sinks in maybe.
Your current age is one of my favorites, although, I’m pretty sure I’ve said that every year. Currently, you’re learning to read, swim, and bike without the training wheels. I watch you discover something new in the world every day, and my entire soul smiles when you announce your favorite mineral is calcite or when you school me on the planets in our solar system. I tell you all the time that I can see your brain growing so big that one day it’ll start coming out of your ears. And then you respond that you’re going to learn SO much because that sounds really cool.
Your humor is my lifeline. I don’t go a day without laughing when you request Beastie Boys because you “want to practice break dancing,” or when you use these intense words like “considered,” “distracted,” and “reliable.”
I describe you to everyone as “forever kind,” and there are no truer words. It’s a wonder how I got so lucky because you make parenting so… easy. I’m pretty sure neither of us knows what would happen if I ever got to the count of three.
I could go on forever, writing you the longest love letter there ever was, but I’ll leave it at this: you’re my world, Kiddo, and I’ll spend every moment making sure you grow up always knowing that.
Happy (belated) Birthday, Foxy.
Love, your mama.