Oh, sure, there are many things I could be whining about (as you might have surmised from my absence here in the 'sphere); for example, it is 7:47 PM right now, and I am AT WORK. And even at that, I'm not nearly caught up.
But that's not what this post is about. This post is about my kid.
Now she is six. Did I mention that? Six!
And, as finslippy's readers seem to agree, Six beats the pants off Five so far.
Six brushes its own teeth. Six puts on its own pajamas. Six turns off the TV and comes to dinner without a fuss. Six can occasionally be seen cleaning its room with apparent goodwill, in a notable reversal of Five's tendency to slump on the floor while moaning that "this will take forever! Years!"
Six is patient and kind to toddler friends, neighbors, and relatives, and (for the most part) to grown-up friends, neighbors, and relatives too. When Six had to spend last weekend in a vacation house in the company of a rampaging toddler, Six hung around the living room for a while, took in the situation, and then retired to the bedroom to draw in peace and privacy.
Six has overcome its princess fixation far enough to opine with wide-eyed sincerity that "what you are like inside counts more than being beautiful."
Six is a thrifty shopper who, while looking through this month's Scholastic Book Order catalog, pointed at a My Little Pony book and said, "Mommy, for a book that costs this much, there should be a toy that comes with it. Personally? I think this book is overpriced."
Yesterday I steeled myself as I pulled up at Six's after-school care, on guard for a repeat of last year's routine of stalling, whining, and begging to play on the playground before we got in the car. But Six floored me by immediately starting to clean up the dollhouse she'd been playing with and cheerfully calling, "I'm so ready to go home! Let's go!"
I'm grateful that Six is still a big fan of teh hugs and florid protestations of love for her parents. Also, that she informs me she does not have a boyfriend. Also, that despite many flourishes of vocabulary, Six does not yet talk exactly like a grownup. The day that Six starts saying "I'm not" instead of "I amn't" will be a sad one for the adults in our house.
So, those of you in the throes of Five (or Four, or Three), take heart: many of the behaviors we worried were essential character flaws that would doom our child to a life of crime and/or iniquity seem to have been washed away by the benificent tide of Six. May it be so for you.
Me, I'm doing my best to save up all the affection I have for Six. Because I think I'll need it when Thirteen rolls around.