Happy Birthday, Luke

Today the first day of 2009 (what? I'll never remember to write that on things. Never.)

It's also the 5th birthday of our oldest son and my first baby.

5 seems so old to me. Like the beginning - of the end.

School. Kindergarten. Riding the bus and being grown up then asking to borrow the car and taking girls out and getting married.

(I might be a little crazy).

But I love this boy.

I love his determined spirit and sense of leadership (this is the boy who at 2 years old was rounding up and leading games with the neighborhood kids).

I love his efforts to help - he cooks with me, puts away dishes, tries to help with Evie.

I love watching him with his baby sister. He reads to her, entertains her, begs to sit next to her during dinner, even shares his coveted fruit snacks.

I love his smarts. This is the boy who essentially taught himself to read (and was all put out a few weeks ago when we parked at a spot at the gym labeled "for parents with small children." He got a horrified look on his face after reading it and cried out "but Mom! I am not a small child!"). This is the boy who spent an hour last night practicing German words with his Daddy.

I love his big dreams. In his mind, he can do anything. This is the boy who shed tears this summer because he couldn't spike the "beach volleyball" (aka the 6 foot high volleyball net in my parents' backyard) over the net like he had seen them do in the Olympics. He's already planned out who he's going to play football for -- the BYU Cougars, Michigan, the Vikings, the Bears and the Packers (because "that's your favorite, Mommy").

I love his consistancy, attention to detail (some might call it O.C.D. I call it attention to detail). Life is good when everything has a plan. He reminds everyone -- including our nanny when we're gone -- that we read scriptures and say prayers every night. We sang "Silent Night" until at least mid-May because he loved the song and couldn't bear to put it to rest.

Happy birthday, my old little boy.