When they turn five.
Oh. My. God. I have a five year old.
That’s right, the long awaited fifth birthday (by The Beast, not me), finally arrived yesterday, and after nearly 11 months of waiting, it hit us like a gale force wind.
That’s right, when I wrote the post about him turning four I didn’t expect my eldest monster to wish a year of his life away so ferociously, but that’s yet another thing which school has been part of. My sensitive, over thinking Stinky Spider-Man is really really bothered by the fact that the majority of his friends have all turned five over his first school year, and it’s not gone unnoticed, that they will all turn six soon too, some within days of starting Year 1. It bothered him so much that I actually at one point seriously considered having an unofficial birthday party for him a few months ago just so he could get over it and focus on the things that matter.
But we’ve done it! We’ve made it, although I really have no idea how he is still alive and how I haven’t been admitted to hospital to have my stomach pumped (and my mind un-boggled), the pressure was almost too much. Not only have we had the…
“HOW MANY SLEEPS MUMMY?”
“Seriously Mummy…how many sleeps?”
But we’ve also had inexplicable behaviour. Seriously, it’s not often I cry (in front) of my children, but something had to give. I’m not proud, in fact, I drowned my sorrows in too much alcohol and expected an awful day. HOWEVER it may have hit a nerve we were failing to do via any other punishment, because, on Monday we made it through the morning without a hitch and yesterday he spent all day at kids club.
It’s been a busy year for The Beast. School, new friends, home work, play dates, attitude, frustrations, an unbelievable amount of growth in all areas ranging from height (I know you don’t believe me, but he is getting taller!), to personal development, and his hair, IT NEVER STOPS GROWING. I can’t pin-point one definitive moment where I looked at The Beast and thought “oh my god he’s grown up” there have just been too many.
After I woke up to the words “I’m five now Mummy….now I’m nearly six” we did the traditional cake for breakfast, where I cried. For some reason I just cannot handle singing happy birthday, even when The Chunky Monkey was shouting “NOOO STOPPP SINGINGGG EVERYOONEEEE” and M having to rugby tackle him to the floor and cover his mouth so not to interrupt the filming.
Now it’s “How many sleeps until my party..” (the answer is two, and one of those thank GOODNESS is at Nan and Grandads), I’ll let you know how it goes…I’m not at ALL highly strung about it (seriously, HOW will my house get clean? Will the cake turn out? Will everyone have fun? Will I have enough food? Will I poison anyone? Will the right people turn up?).
Here’s to you Stinky Spider-Man. Let’s not wish this year away eh? It’s all going a bit too fast for my liking and there’s so much to see and do.