The baby. My Boo. Today he turns five. FIVE!

He’s been saying for the last year (or two) that he was five years old, but today, he really is.

He’s been at home with me for five solid years, and in a few short months, he’ll be off to kindergarten.

He’s obsessed with Louise “Waweese” (she’s all he talked about in his special birthday preschool show and tell).

He eats corn tortilla and Kraft American cheese quesadillas nearly every day.

He can argue. BOY can this kid argue. He doesn’t do it much, but when he gets it into his head that he wants something (yesterday it was chocolate chip muffins for breakfast and I had to firmly tell him for at least 30 minutes that I was NOT baking muffins) he won’t let it go.

He’s happy to play alone for long stretches of time, talking to (and for) his toys, but he also really, really loves playing with his siblings when they’re home. He loves (and knows about) everything his big brother loves, but also his own things, like Team Umizoomi.

He has a special relationship with grandpa, getting to spend the most time with him than any other grandkid.

He was our little alien baby, but he grew into his face and cheeks and terribly handsome.

His first are my lasts and it’s fun and bittersweet all wrapped up into one big ball of emotions.

Happy birthday, Love Bug.

You’re FIVE. And I’m verklempt.