Dear Zoey,

Ahhh, my six year old child.

How sweet and thoughtful you are at this age.  I’m sitting here at the Y, patiently waiting for the end of your beloved gymnastics class, and watching from the corner of my eye what appears to be a mother-grandmother duo engaged in battle with several unruly/hungry/tired children.  And I’m just thinking…wow.  How lucky I am.

(Not that you haven’t BEEN that unruly/hungry/tired child in the not-so-distant past, let me be clear.  It’s just that today you’re not and I’m feeling thankful.)

Kindergarten is wrapping up and I’m reflecting on all you’ve learned and become interested in this year.  I am only half joking when I tell my friends you are destined to be my sweet little nerd.  Two hours ago I had to guide you by the shoulder through a parking lot as I balanced your latest stack of library books in my arms, because your newest Judy Moody selection just couldn’t wait until you got to the car.  In the past month, you have passed through brief but intense fascinations with the following:  our solar system, collecting state quarters, and looking at life through the small lens of a magnifying glass Gigi bought you two weeks ago.  You have an irritating habit of demanding perfect phrasing from me at all times and are quick to correct what I consider to be my few grammatical errors.  You can not seem to get enough food, EVER, and I’m certain we could wallpaper a room in our house with all the reading awards you have collected this school year.

You ask great, funny, random questions, all the time.  Mommy, wouldn’t it be great if we could see Neptune, except we can’t because it’s the farthest from the sun?  Mommy, can we go to Maine one day?  How many plane rides will it take to get there?  Mommy, do you think Gigi will trade me three state quarters for my three regular quarters?  Mommy.  Are people supposed to have a boyfriend or girlfriend?  (Yes, sure, at least two, she’ll probably give them to you, and NO.)  My favorite part of having a six year old may be that you have no filters whatsoever.  Whatever you think comes straight out your mouth.

Your patience and bike riding skills and ability to fall asleep quickly in your own bed have all improved so dramatically over the past year, it’s hard to recognize who you were at age five compared to this new, mature, grown up six year old in front of me.  And yet you are still my Goldfish-cracker-loving, hopelessly-attached-to-your-mama, please-read-to-me little Zo Bug.

I just wanted to record this snapshot of your life right now, who you are, what you love, because I’m afraid that someday I will have forgotten how delightful you were at this age.  That you will ask me your new favorite question, “tell me a story from when I was two, or five, or six”, and I won’t be able to remember.  Also, I want something down in writing to look back on one day, the day that is coming when you don’t want to share your every waking moment and thought with your mom.

 

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2 thoughts on “Dear Zoey,

  1. Glad you are writing these things down when you remember them. Wish I had done it when my kids were young. Too busy with four kids I guess and moving so much. I feel so lucky to be a part of you and Zoey’s life. love you both.

  2. The other day Will demanded stories about his babyhood and I opened my blog. It was fun to look at pictures and read things that even I had forgotten. ( “Mommy, no more babies, I want to sleep. How about a fish?” ) I’m bittersweet about kindergarten ending, six has been a fun age with lots of amazing discoveries. Albeit annoying sometimes, like learning curse words and when to use them…..)

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