Kid Amnesiac

According to the calendar, Simon is four and five sixths now. We’re big on fractions in this house; just ask Simon how much gas we have in the tank. Seeing as he is still only four and five sixths, this isn’t one of my annual mushy birthday letters.

Thing is, though, developmentally Simon has made huge, huge leaps in the past month or so. So while the calendar might not back me up, I think what I have on my hands is a five-year old. And I’ve got to say, if I’m right, five is pretty spectacular.

A short list of changes and accomplishments in the past month or so includes the following:

• The ability to put on his own clothes;
• The ability and willingness to meet and play with new friends at parks, parties, and other public spaces; also the ability to work out small conflicts on his own;
• The ability to sit through ceremonies/speeches with little talking or fidgeting;
• The ability to climb a fence with minimal help;
• The ability to tell a story, play pretend games that go on for hours, and make anything a joke by adding the word “poop”;
• The ability to understand basic mathematical concepts like “one quarter” on the gas tank meter, estimating miles per hour on the speedometer, and doing simple addition and subtraction in his head.
• The ability to cover his ears and cope with increasingly loud noises;
• The ability to recognize melodies in music, say during guitar or piano solos, and sing the vocal parts that coincide earlier or later in the song;
• The ability to help—really help—with tasks like laundry, dusting, and grocery shopping;
• The ability to understand when he’s done something hurtful or disobedient and apologize without prompting.

The only bad thing to come about, and it’s not really bad, is the beginning of a more pronounced gender preference. Simon likes his girl friends, but when given the option, he seeks out boys, older boys if possible. A boy on the playground will divert him from a girl; he imagines just about any activity being more fun if a boy is involved. So when I took him for a go-cart ride on Monday, he was thrilled thrilled thrilled (“I didn’t know you were so good at go-cart driving, Mommy!”), and immediately imagined going back “with Daddy and Uncle Dan.”

I’ve read that somewhere around six, dads take over mom’s primary role in the lives of boys. If that’s true, the shift has already begun over here. But so long as he’s willing to tell me out of the blue that he “loves [me] all the way to Eris,” I think I’ll be OK. In fact, given how happy and confident he’s become, I know I will.