Month fifty-five

Dear Henry,
A few days ago you turned fifty-five months old, and in a few more months you're going to turn five. And some of your friends are already five. And the fifty-fifth month has seen a continuation of the sort of really awesome behavior that makes you the most amazing person to hang out with. (And I'm not saying that sarcastically. We have turned things around, Bean!) I'm sort of feeling like five is our current lucky number and that we should most definitely buy a lottery ticket and pick nothing but multiples of five. Or better yet, I should buy five tickets. I can win five times that way.

I made a HUGE parenting mistake. I knew instantly it was a mistake but you can't undue what has already been done. So now, thanks to your mama, you are enjoying these Cheetos-like chips I like to call Cheesy Poofs. You have been getting your own food in the morning when your pops and I are far too tired to get out of bed and help you out. To facilitate this, we actually bought food and put it within your reach. I've even gone so far as to pre-pour the cereal in the bowl and measure out some milk for you to add when you're ready to eat. The other morning, you came into the room after letting us sleep later than normal and you asked for some more food. You were really just asking for us to get up and play but you know that won't get us out of bed the same way that requests for food will. Anyway, you then informed me that you had finished your cereal and that you had even poured yourself a small bowl of cheesy poofs. For breakfast. The cool thing is, when I went to the kitchen, you had moved your bowls to the sink. You are coming along nicely, young man.

We traveled to Montana so you could visit your grandparents who you haven't seen in a few years. There are many noteworthy moments about this trip. First off, you were the best travel companion a mama could ask for. We passed the nearly ten hours in the car listening to books on tape, watching movies on the iPad - well, you watched, my eyes were on the road - and you played iPad games. One morning, you came into the guest bedroom and said, "That guy out there is sleeping." "That guy" is your grandpa, Bean. You came into the room with me and we read books until he was awake again. You got to play outside a lot, often in one of three forts your cousins have built on grandpa and grandma's property. You made up a game with your cousins, Taylor and Jackson, where you would run while they rode their bikes down to the main gate yelling, "Run! The monster's gonna get us!" You'd run back up to the house and then do it all over again. You blew bubbles and helped picked wildflowers and ate grandma's cinnamon rolls and played LEGOs. We walked out in the pasture to see the creek. Parenting mistake número dos came when I mentioned the many piles of horse, how can I put this delicately for your preschooler mind? waste. Immediately, you decided walking was not a viable option for exploring this particular part of their land. I carried you out of the thick of it but then set you down. It's good for a kid to have a little horse poop on his shoes every now and then. You began nearly every sentence with the phrase, "You know what?" When grandpa noticed the frequency of that question, he began randomly saying it back to you, as in, "You know what, Henry? I'm going to go to work," or "Hey Henry, you know what? Ham sandwich."

Love, that is our word of the month or it would be if we were to choose one. You have created a new hug, the X hug, and it consists of jumping into my arms (and every once in awhile your papa's) and wrapping your legs around my waist while trying to cross your arms in the back and squeezing ever so tightly. These are the best hugs in the world. For the past couple of weeks, you have taken to cupping my face in your hands and bending down to tell me that you are falling in love with me. It is the sweetest way to start the morning, I assure you. You picked dandelions and put them in a tiny vase on my nightstand. You cuddle close when we read books at night. You even speak nicely to the plants in our garden because I explained to you that they grow better when you compliment them. Boy howdy, is that ever working. In no time at all, you're going to be able to forage for sugar peas and radishes and spinach and strawberries on our patio. You bring us such joy. Okay, yeah, a little bit of heartache, too. But mostly, you amaze us every day. We love you mucher, Bean.

Love,
Mama