Golden Boy

Soren turns six-years-old today.

I can hardly believe it. I had no idea that No. 6 would be such a big deal. I find myself getting teary-eyed everytime I think about it — because he's just such a big kid!

It's also his golden birthday, which means he turns six on the sixth, and that only happens once in a lifetime. And, because of the leap year, this weekend was a repeat of the exact weekend when he was born. We watched the Super Bowl, went to the hospital, and had a baby at exactly 1 p.m. on Monday. It was the Monday morning that changed my life.

I wanted to start planning this very special day months ago. Soren, however, didn't want any planning. He didn't want any balloons, he didn't want special plates or streamers, he DIDN'T want any birthday games. I tried to convince him, but he's such a KID now that he couldn't be embarrassed in front of his friends with any pin the tail on the donkey. He just wanted his friends to come over and play foosball and pool in the basement. (Thanks again Laurena!) He wanted pizza and he wanted to be sure that all his friends could skip the salad if they wanted to.

At first his friends found this unorganization odd too, looking a little lost when I said they could go do whatever they wanted. But, Soren made the right call. He and his friends had a blast checking out his toys, switching to sword fighting, then ninjas, and saying things like "I'm kicking your ass" while playing pool. They got reprimanded for that one and instead said things like "I'm kicking your A." (sssss - whisper giggle giggle.)

Soren also got to show his friends his brand-new room. Last weekend he finally got a new bedroom set. He immediately went into the "little kid" room and moved all his stuff out. Jonas was particularly bothered by this. Now, he climbs into his own bed, reads for awhile, and shuts off his own light. He'll let me tuck him in if I insist, but really he can take it or leave it.

This morning, he asked me to tell him about the day he was born. I told him everything, the Super Bowl, the chili, the middle of the night walking in the snow, and how much he cried when I finally got to hold him. I told him it was the best Monday morning of my life. He climbed up into my lap, draping his giant body with its bony arms and thrashing legs, nearly headbutted me as he nestled his head under my neck. For a second, we were both transported to that very first day six years ago. A little bit of baby-talk escaped him and he whispered quietly so nobody else would hear, "I luv you mommeee."

Right at the moment I realized that what all the other mothers before me have said is absolutely true. No matter how big he gets he's always going to be my baby.