FIVE. It is the number of perfect fingers you have on each hand, the number of toes (or grains of rice your friend Larkin Scott says) on each foot. It is the number of your birth month, May. And the number of months you have graced us with your presence in this world.
It seems so much has happened this month, I can hardly remember what we've been up to. But, speaking of toes, I know this: you love them, you think they are the most delicious thing you have ever tasted and you chew on them whenever you can get them free of your footie pajamas or socks. Not to show favoritism though, you also love all 10 fingers and desire nothing more than to shove them all in your mouth at once. Teething much?
You have continued your wriggling about in bed at night to the point of spinning all the way around so that your head is where your feet started. I really wish I had the stamina to stay up and watch to see how you do it but I confess this whole sleeping through the night thing is my FAVORITE new thing you are doing.
Yes sir, you started eating some rice cereal a few times a day this month (Daddy says it tastes really gross... I mean good...) and now you sleep until at least 6:00 in the morning. Sleep is good. We like sleep.
You may be curious why I have given this post the title Five(l) Goes West. First of all, Fivel Goes West is an excellent tale of adventure and I can't wait to share it with you when you are older. You went west this month young man, to the wild, wild west for a whole weekend! While your dad and I went to Aunt Meredith and Uncle Nick's wedding you got to spend the whole weekend with your Papa and Beba in Bedford. We missed you waaaaay more than you missed us! We knew you were in excellent hands but we really couldn't wait to get home. From what I hear you enjoyed watching football and cartoons every day.
While I am thinking about it, thank you for the red roses you insisted Daddy get me for my birthday, they were very lovely. And many thanks to Aunt Whitney and Ms. Laura (soon to be Mrs.) for babysitting so we could go out to dinner. You have been my best birthday gift two years running!
You also went west again, all the way to Hollins University where we had family photos taken. We had fun despite the wind and cloudy weather with Ms. Emily Lane. I am sure your naturally flirtatious nature with all the pretty ladies of the world will have served us well in our pictures.
You have also recently enjoyed playing Star Wars with Daddy and watching The Office. Dwight and Jim seem to be particularly entertaining to you. Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.
How A Bear Got His Name
Ages ago, back when you were in *gasp* newborn size pajamas, you had some with red and grey stripes. On the front was the face of a monkey. That seems absolutely normal and boring... and it was, except for the fact that your Dad couldn't tell if it was a monkey or a bear. And he said it was a bear so often that it ended up getting me confused as to which animal it truly was. At some point along the way while you were wearing it I started saying things like "Are you my bear? Who is my little bear?" Then I began to call you my Sweet Bear, Sugar Bear, Honey Bear...and during those really fun diaper changes, Poo Bear. In short, you became just "Bear". It is the nickname that has stuck above all the others such as Runt, Muffin, and Kempy. Daddy calls you "Boy" which will probably also stick.
I wish you would stop growing but I know that isn't possible! I am so thankful that I get to have you with me each day. We both think you are the cat's pajamas. :)
Mom
