Now That You're Six

Now that you're six there's a lot of cool going on. Practising the "you talkin to me?" look. Wearing no scarf. Whistling through your teeth.

Now that you're six, we have our share of drama. Tears, cries, frowns, eyebrows all over the place. I always knew you had in it you, but boy. You're good. Our life right now is more of a carousel than a rollercoaster. We go 'round 'round 'round and 'round again.

Now that you're six, there's so many things you want to know and do. So many moods to try, so many people to talk to, so many species of mammals to learn, so many foods to reject, so many kisses and hugs to be had and delivered and rejected and begged for.

Now that you're six, you're not telling me everything that goes on anymore and it's difficult and amazing at the same time. To know that there's a whole other you that's just yours and yours alone, no parents allowed, no doors ajar.

Now that you're six you want me to sing you a new song every night, preferably about a lion but a cat will do. And when I close the door and turn off the lights I can hear you be quiet for thirty seconds and then the lights come on and you start talking to Stella The Polar Bear and the rest of the gang and the party's just getting started.

Now that you're six, you have faith. Like yesterday, when you sighed heavily from the backseat: Mom, it takes forever to grow up! I'm waiting for my big moment, you know. When I'm going to save the world.

I know you will, min älskling. And until you do, we'll be riding that carousel with you. Round and round and round again. Now that you're six. And when you are seven. And all the years to come.