The last first wiggly tooth

Benjamin found his first wiggly tooth tonight. And in all the childlike delight that only the littlest among us possess, his whole face lit up with this discovery. Because now he knows he is BIG. "I'na big boy," in that voice that still clings to it's babyness.

I am a little bit sad that this is the last first wiggly tooth, as I have been with many of the passing milestones. Because I know the first wiggly tooth will lead to a smile that is forever changed, which is just the beginning of the changes to come. That face I have looked into a thousand times will be the same face, but different. And honestly, a big part of me is just not ready to say good-bye to that face.

That face with all it's Benja-ness and none of the "I can't be who I am because the world does not accept it"-ness that we all take on. That face with it's eyebrows. Or it's wide open laughing mouth. That face that scrunches up in anger or puckers up in hurt. That face that looks back to me, still completely trusting that as the center of his world, I will always take care of him without fail. The face of my baby.

But for now, I will (mostly) happily congratulate him on his achievement and tell him that yes, he is now a very big boy.

Parenting win

Andy recently asked me, "Why can't you and Dad be normal parents?" as in why won't you and Dad buy me everything I want, when I want it.

And tonight Elizabeth told me that "Doing school work in her room is not part of her culture." Very haughtily, I might add. She went on to tell me that these things were part of my culture: smoothies and getting angry at them when they do things to make me mad.

I am clearly killing it at this parenting thing. My parenting book will be an overnight best seller.

Andy the Man

I have to work on my poker face.

We're leaving the house this morning and in the usual chaos of 90 trips back and forth to make sure we (me) have everything (we didn't), Andy mentions to me in passing that he can't wait to get neck hair.

This is new, I think.

"Neck hair?" I ask - as in, did I hear that correctly?

"Yeah, neck hair. Or, chest hair. When am I going to get chest hair?"and while asking, pushes out his bony little boy chest as if he can just pop them out as he inspects himself.

There's no parenting book out there to prepare you for the moment your 9 year old asks you about body hair.

Andy turns 9

Nine! He's nine, its terrible. I love him so much, I just can't believe he's one year from being 10, half done with his time living at home. How did this happen? More importantly, why is it happening to me? Let all the other kids grow up - but not mine!

This birthday was all golf. We got him a big set of real golf clubs. Gramma is knitting him club covers for his woods. He got golf balls, golf tees, he wants to use birthday money to buy a lightweight golf shirt and a hat to wear on the course. He's beyond obsessed. And he's out there, chipping around the yard, as much as I'll let him. All day long. We go over spelling words while he's hitting the ball.

For the party part of his birthday, we took him and two friends to Adventure Landing for some boy bonding fun. Oh my. Boys! Laser tag, go carts (this was my favorite part), mini golf, arcade games. They had such a good time - and I know it was good for Andy to be with his friends, without his siblings - and do all the goofy boy things. Laugh at farts, climb over every part of the putt-putt course, argue over who is better at arcade basketball.

My funny boy. Who's trying to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up. Professional athlete. Golf pro or instructor. Lego set designer. These are all at the top of the list.

Happy birthday, my Andyman.

Evil Knievel

I live with Evil Knievel. Most of you know him as Benjamin. 

This kid (I have to practice not calling him "this baby") since his fifth birthday is drawing near. FIVE! Ug. 

I digress. This kid - who climbed before he could walk and has already broken his arm twice - is now riding a big boy bike with no training wheels. Not the tiny little beginner bike sans training wheels. No, we're talking the big bike. The bike is bigger than the boy. 

He literally has to jump on the seat to get going. And he does. The transition from little boy bike with training wheels (which he rode like a bat out of you know where. There has never been a kid who pedaled as fast and as furious as Benjamin.) to big boy bike took practically minutes. 

His ingenious sister thought it'd be smart to ride that bike around the backyard. And on the trampoline if possible. Since she'd been riding that bike up until Christmas, and now it was just sitting unused in the garage, begging for some attention. This should serve as your frame of reference for how big this bike frame is - my giant girl was riding it, albeit with knees hitting the handlebars. But how could we make this game more fun, she thinks. I know! Let's get Benja to ride the bike through the grass to the trampoline. If he manages to not gash his head open on the swing set support beams along the way, then its a win-win. This is highly entertaining for the two of them for an afternoon or so. And I think, great, if he falls he lands on grass. He's only broken one bone landing on grass, but never needed stitches, so this is probably going to work out. 

Then comes the even better idea - Elizabeth teaching Benjamin to ride the big boy bike with no training wheels in the road. You know, where it counts. So he could get some really good road rash when he crashes. 

Mama Knievel fears aside, the kid learns to ride the bike in about 5 minutes. He has fallen off, but he's managed to land in the grass. 

And he has the best balance I have ever seen. He's not wobbly to begin with, even when he should be, those first couple of seconds after take off. And it took him this afternoon to figure out how to get on the bike himself. He tried propping it up against a number of other objects and then climbing onto the bike. But his 4 year old engineering skills weren't up to the task and everything would come crashing down. 

And despite all bets that he would have thrown the bike in a fit of rage, he didn't. He persevered and he now straddles the bike, one leg dangling in the air since he's too short for this bike, pushes off and then jumps up on the seat. All in about a second, all while maintaining balance. Its equally frightening and impressive. 

Since he spends about half his riding time looking backwards, I am terrified of a mailbox collision. I'm probably going to have to glue a helmet to his helmet hair - it will be the only way to get him to consistently wear one. 

This baby. This big boy who is really coming into his own Benja-ness. But please, please, be my little Benja bear for just a little while longer.