I know this is the most trite sentiment in the history of parenting but you have to forgive it because it's true; but one second I had a baby, and the next second, he became a kid.
Cal turned five a couple of weeks ago.
He's not even a preschooler anymore. He starts kindergarten this fall. Which, I think, is no longer considered preschool. He's a schooler. Schoolboy. Whatever.
I could get all sappy and sentimental here about how fast the time is going and how he was just a baby in my arms (I would sing this, of course, and all the while a guy in silhouette would be playing a violin on my roof) but frankly, his birthday was a couple of weeks ago, when I was too busy to write about it, so the sappiness has faded somewhat. It's still weird though. It's like suddenly, my kid became old. Which probably implies some ominous things for me. My telomeres are shortening as we speak!
It's weird, because day to day, I can't quite tell he's getting older, but when I look at his school pictures from last fall, I can see the changes. He's getting thinner. His face is getting longer. Sometimes I still see the baby. But sometimes I can see flashes of him as a teenager, and it's weird. He's going to be a good-looking man, am I right, ladies? I just hope he can get that scowl off his face by then. No one likes a brooder, Cal.
(I am lying. Many people inexplicably like brooders. Exhibit A: Jordan Catalano.)
Happy belated birthday, Cal*. Now on to what's next.
* By "Happy belated birthday," I don't mean to say that we didn't actually celebrate his birthday when it happened. Because we did. We even had a birthday party. Nothing says "summer birthday" like a party at the municipal pool! Luckily none of the attendees threw up in the pool afterwards, because I think that the neon orange frosting on the Toy Story cupcakes** would have probably incriminated our group as flagrant disregarders of the "no swimming for 30 minutes after eating" rule.
** No, I didn't make the cupcakes. Because I didn't want anyone to die.