the chunglunds: five, it's a handful

My darling J2,

You are five! I have probably stunted your growth by treating you like my baby---because you ARE my baby. My littlest Chunglund. Nevertheless, you are now at least brushing your teeth, taking a bath, getting dressed, and getting into LOTS of trouble all on your own. Oh and you also are no longer crying every time you get a haircut, thank goodness! It also appears that you have stopped coloring on the walls. *knocks on wood*

You are not, however, sleeping that independently but it's so so hard for me to make you do it when not so secretly I love how snuggly you are.

One of your favorite things to do is play Legos. You build items to sell in your "store", which is really just my bed. This morning you told me how to discern whether the store is open or closed, and thankfully you informed me that there was a free sale on battle blades (whatever the heck that is)---so of course, I got three.

Another favorite is helping yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator, including things you should not be eating, e.g., Diet Coke. This coincides nicely with another favorite thing, which is getting in trouble, e.g., poking a hole in the watermelon, which is arguably kinda impressive, but still.

Sigh. But this winning smile will get me every time. How can you be mad at this?

You are the kid standing front in center of the team soccer picture picking your nose. You are also the kid who yells parkour, spinning and jumping as you walk down the sidewalk. You are the kid that, much to my embarrassment, yells Donald Trump repeatedly and for unknown reason, while standing in line at Barnes & Noble. You see what I am getting at? You are hilarious, particularly to those people who aren't your parents and do not shoulder the responsibility of making sure you don't end up like said politician. I promise you, American people, I'm doing my best.

Generally speaking, you have zero Fs to give. You do, however and most unfortunately, respond best to threats and coercion. Like most moms, I have no idea what happens when I get to 3---but thank goodness, you tend to finally do what you are asked as soon as I say 1. On the one hand, I guess it's good to know what motivates you. Knowledge is power, after all. On the other, it's exhausting and not that much fun to have to threaten you with things like no dessert, timeouts, no screen time, etc. just to get a modicum of compliance.

I (and probably everyone else) clearly tell you that you are cute way too often, because you have expressed that J1 is the smart one* and you are the cute one. It's true. You are very very cute, but you are also smart. You are smart enough to know that you have to tell your teachers that I don't pack you a snack (even though I do!) so that you can get the Nutri-Grain bars that they keep for those kids whose parents actually don't pack snacks (again, NOT ME). You are also smart enough to know that if you want to take toys to school, you have to sneak them in your backpack. Unfortunately for you, you are not smart enough to remember that moms are superheros and know EVERYTHING.

You are sweet. So so sweet. Your love for me is as fierce as mine is for you. You do not like it when you think someone has hurt me---or if no one saves me a piece of bacon. Every morning when we say good-bye, you give me a hug and a kiss and then as I drive or walk away you always blow me a kiss. You are incredibly OCD about this ritual. It MUST happen. And I certainly do not object.

With the exception of your sometimes super-entitled attitude, I love absolutely everything about you. I love your imagination. You make "computers" out of pillows and books and "key pads" for secret codes out of paper on your door. I am so lucky to be your Umma.