Five
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The Dotter turns five today. (We think. We know it’s very close.)
This year, she really understands it. She counted down the days, ending last night with, “I’ll be FIVE tomorrow!”
What a difference a little more than four years brings. Sunday night, OmegaDad made one of our favorite fun dinners: fluffy sour-cream pancakes (originally a waffle recipe, but our waffle iron is funkified, so it has turned into pancakes), sausages, and whipped cream–lots of whipped cream. Yum.
I have a preferred method for my pancakes: I like defrosted frozen blueberries, dripping with blueberry juice, spread on my pancakes, then covered with the aforementioned whipped cream.
This time, OmegaDad forgot to buy the frozen blueberries. Oh. My. Gawd. It was the end of the world! (Not.)
But…OmegaDotter, displaying her new-found empathy, came up behind me, wrapped her arms around me, patted me, and crooned, “I’m soooo sorry, Mommy! No blueberries…”, which trailed off in a mournful tone.
The empathy is definitely a development between ages four and five. Oh, she had flashes before, but now it’s full-blown. Daddy or Mommy gets an owie, and she’s right on top of it, kissing it and telling us earnestly, “It’s okay! It’ll get better!” She’s internalizing societal rules for “right” and “wrong”, so that now, if I park in the Wrong Spot (”Teacher of the Year”, because there’s no other spot available what with all the snow piled up) while picking up OmegaDad from his class, she spends five minutes going, “Oh, no! Oh, this is not good. Not good at all! Will we get a ticket?! Will the police come get us?!”
Her One and Only True Love, C., gave her a handful of horse, unicorn, and pegasus stickers for her birthday. Now she is insistent that we write him a thank-you note.
Of course, she’s internalizing some other things. This morning, on the way to school, she started chattering about the Holy Spirit. “It’s invisible! It’s all around us! We get to take the Holy Spirit home with us, Mommy!”
Secular school, here we come!
Happy birthday, lovie.
