Saturday, February 20, 2010

Dear Hayden,

I know I don’t need to tell you this, but YOU’RE SIX!


How in the world do I have a six year old? It seems like just weeks ago I was trying to figure out how to change your diaper without pee ending up on the ceiling. You’d think we would have learned the "washrag trick" after only a few times, but in our sleepless state of insanity, it took like two months to figure that out. Now you have gone and turned SIX!

And when you go to the bathroom now, pee still goes everywhere…but we’re not involved. Oh my, how time flies.
Now that you are six you have to hold up two hands to tell someone your age…which if you don’t already know, is a big deal in my book. I have been writing this blog in my head for the last six months. You may hear this fact and wonder why then, am I so late in posting it?

It’s that ever since you entered Kindergarten, my head has been spinning with homework, dress up days, and holiday parties. Sometime between 1985 and the present, Kindergarten turned into a social club with more events than a college fraternity.
You are doing great other than the fact that you have donated four jackets to Taylor Elementary.

Me, on the other hand? I am just trying to keep me head above water.

One specific Friday that stands out was the annual Kindergarten Fairy Tale Ball. You were supposed to dress up like a character from any fairy tale. Without consulting you, I decided that a knight would be the perfect costume (since your unlimited supply of Superhero costumes would not be permitted at the Ball). The knight costume was ideal since it was purchased from the Dollar Store.

The night before the Big Ball, I overheard you telling your Dad about the big event the next day and with an enthusiastic tone, you told him of your exciting plans to dress as the BIG! BAD! WOLF!

When I heard the commotion, I rushed into the room in an attempt to smooth over the situation.

I was all, “Ummmm. Actually, Hayden…you’re not going to dress up like the Big Bad Wolf. You are going to dress up like a knight!” I said with as much excitement as possible.

“The night?” You said with uncertainty. “Why would I dress up like the night?”

The next thirty or so minutes were spent arguing about whether you would wear your one dollar silver(ish) shield or dress up like the Big Bad Wolf.

“It wasn’t fair!” you claimed. “Ethan was going to dress up like Humpty Dumpty, Ryan a pirate, and Jackson is going to be a King!”

I started feeling like the world’s worst parent.

So, against your Dad’s wishes, I began brainstorming with Hayden about Plan B.

“He could dress up like the Emperor in his new clothes,” your Dad said sarcastically as he shook his head in disbelief that I was entertaining your last minute switch.

Finally we reached a compromise. We didn’t have the supplies to whip up a Big Bad Wolf Costume, or a Hansel costume, or even a Pinocchio costume. "But we only need red overalls and a big long nose!" you whined.

Instead we rounded up the basic staples of a pirate. Plus you could carry a sword. BONUS!
The next day you can imagine my surprise when I asked about how Ethan looked as Humpty Dumpty?

“Oh, he decided to go as a knight,” you said nonchalantly.

“What about Ryan? Was it cool that you were both pirates?”

“He decided to go as a knight too. I was the only Pirate in the entire Kindergarten!!!”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only drama we’ve had regarding these weekly dress up days. Your Dad and I came close to needing marriage counseling after the first event when your class participated in the “Vocabulary Parade.” You were given the choice of several weird and very random words. Since this was the first event, I was still a willing participant in the unspoken competition between moms. We I scoured the non-costume-friendly vocabulary words and after ruling out Quarter, Computer, United States, and Pink, finally decided on “Partly Cloudy”.
I had a brilliant idea that involved a blue sweat suit, a yellow shirt, white felt, cotton balls, and exactly three safety pins per cloud. Your Dad offered to help and I graciously accepted.

So there we were, sitting in the middle of the living room floor at 10p.m., surrounded by hundreds of cotton balls arguing over how many safety pins were needed per cloud. I seriously questioned the stability of our marriage after I realized how different our views were regarding what clouds should look like on a sweatsuit.
All this to say you are very, very loved, Son.

Oh, and I am sure the counselor would have agreed that floppy clouds dangling by two safety pins looked sloppy.
Things to note in this picture: 1) the pure excitement on your face, 2)the yellow t-shirt that read "partly cloudy", 3) the floppy cloud on your right butt cheek, 4)the spray bottle that read "with a chance of rain"....Brilliant, if I do say so myself. Except that the spray bottle explains your sour face. You were just told that we were going to pour the water out before school. It was just for looks. Which was so NOT FAIR!
As you are well aware, these pictures of you ironing and helping us with this project were completely staged. I am not even sure why we staged them. It was somewhat reminiscent of my youth when I was in Odyssey of the Mind and we had to prove our involvement in through pictures. If your Mimi can find the picture, you’ll see me and my half permed bowl haircut operating a table saw. And just ask GrandDad about the time we ended up in the ER because he had me wash my hair with acetone to get some paint out of it.
But I digress. The point is: kindergarten is hard. And expensive. Between the sixty dollars in cookie dough, the Taylor Spirit shirt, the PTA membership for each of us (what should we do with that?), and the Holiday party dues, we probably could have paid your tuition for Texas A&M.

Speaking of cookie dough, since you were able to sell six boxes of dough, you won what you think is a glow in the dark dradel. It’s really just an old fashioned top that could of been purchased at Chuck E Cheese for 12 tickets, but you were proud of that dradel.

And for that, we were proud. Not to mention thankful for the 192 cookie dough balls.
Hayden, you are the best. I love the way you come over and whisper in my ear ‘do you want to have a talk tonight?’ fifteen minutes before bed. I even love your stall tactics to prolong our nightime talk. One night, you went so far as to randomly ask the definition of 'upgrade'.
You know, just out of curiousity.
I will never forget the night you told me the difference between Dream Makers and Dream Breakers. It was the first night you sort of opened up to me about bad things you had heard at school from some "Dream Breakers." It was that night when I realized just how hard it is going to be raising kids in this crazy world.
I love cuddling with you on the weekends and I love that you are just like your Dad in the sense that only those closest to you know how hilarious you are. You are the most likely to stand up and start dancing to a commercial…always singing 'I Want To Be Famous'…and still a marketer's dream, wanting every item you see on TV. I’m so thankful that you are our first born and I know that you will continue to set a good example for Davis.

Keep being a Dream Maker, Hayden!

Love, Mom


Anonymous said...

I love the blog, and I especially love Hayden. He is a dream maker!!! I can't believe my first grandchild is SIX, and my sweet baby daughter is almost THIRTY!!

I love you all!!!


Mica said...

Worth.the.wait! Forgive my impatience!