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Turning FIVE & getting to be “only-child” for a few hours

Fussypants is five years old. Yesterday was his birthday. I still can’t believe it. Five. 5, cinco, 5, fünf.


Am I old enough to have an almost Kindergartner?

Ok, don’t answer that.

He had an amazing birthday, mostly because he was so excited to be 5. Seriously excited. Beyond seriously excited. I could have thrown mud at him and he’d still have had a good day. He told me that “5 is his favorite number and now he gets to be it”.

Isn’t that funny?

I started a tradition on his first birthday, of filling up his crib with balloons, then his room when he moved out of the crib. He woke up an hour earlier than normal and squealed in delight when he saw the balloons. I love that I can make him happy with something as simple as using my excess hot air (and I gave myself a headrush rush too. Bonus).

Taken at 6:33 am, because someone was too excited to sleep in, even though it was a holiday.

We had a hockey game the night of his birthday and he politely requested that his baby sister stay with Nana and Grandpa instead of going to the game so that he could sit on my lap, “because his sister never lets him sit on my lap” (such a little thing, to sit on mommy’s lap. I guess I need to be better at making one-on-one time with him).

My parents (the Nana and Grandpa of the aforementioned Nana and Grandpa) are amazing and didn’t hesitate to say Little Miss could spend the night with them. Seriously, beyond amazing. So we obliged his request and just the three of us went to the game. He had so much fun with my hubby and I because we could each hold a hand and lift him in the air (again, such a little thing but made him so happy). He very much enjoyed that all our attention was focused on him.

Getting hot chocolate before the hockey game. Nana gave him the sticker on his hat.

He was on a birthday high almost until midnight. The game went into overtime, then a shootout and by the time we got home and got him to bed it was close to 11pm. But it’s all good because he enjoyed every minute of his birthday. And in the wisdom of like mother, like son, he pulled the “it’s my birthday” phrase out several times. “I’m wearing sweatpants to the hockey game, because it’s my birthday”. “I’m having a corn dog and fries for lunch, because it’s my birthday”.

I Love It.

I’m a fan of birthdays because if you were never born, you’d never live so why not make the most of the YOUR day? And why just the day? Why not celebrate all week, or even all month? Birthdays are a season, are they not?

So, along that vein, I had a special treat for Fussypants this morning. I had bought a cake and a #5 candle but we didn’t get around to having any because of the hockey game, so I sang to him this morning and he blew out the candle and made a wish.

Yes, he got to eat a tiny piece for breakfast.

And at school today he got to wear an awesome dinosaur crown his teacher made for him and we brought cupcakes to share, since school was closed yesterday and I would have kept him home anyway because nobody should have to go to school on their birthday.

The cupcakes almost caused an issue but we sorted it out. He really wanted cupcakes with Lightning McQueen and Dinoco rings on them but the store (school policy, no homemade food for birthdays) didn’t have them so he settled for Thor rings. There were three different rings on the cupcakes and he told me he really wanted the hammer. So I said that he should get that one then and he said, “We are not allowed to throw a fit, we get what we get”. Clearly there has been cupcake infighting issues in the past in his classroom.

I can only hope he witnessed the fit, and wasn’t the one throwing it. 

So I told his teacher about his desire for the hammer ring, and she assured me the birthday boy would get first pick. Phew.

Due to the fact that the date of his birthday is kind of crappy, and the closest weekend this time around happened to be New Year’s Eve and New Years Day, we are not having his party until next Saturday. So he kind of gets to celebrate all week, because at school tomorrow they go to Chapel and that’s when they’ll sing Happy Birthday and he’ll get to pick a birthday bear or necklace (or so he tells me).

See, Birthday Season.

Fussypants says a lot of things that make me laugh but yesterday he said two things that made it into his Quotables book, so I’ll share. While walking into the hockey game he exclaimed, “Dude, someone just gave me a flat tire and I didn’t even know them” and when driving home he told us of this very elaborate play date he wants me to set-up with some of his buddies, to play street hockey. He was so detailed in the events that will transpire that I asked him, “Have you really thought this through or are you making it up on the fly?” and he responded, “I’m making it through”.

That’s my boy. My 5 year old boy. Making it through.



  1. Oh I love it. All of it! My son will be 5 in July and I just can’t believe it. And I TOTALLY agree with you about nobody should have to go to school on their birthday. My birthday is Veteran’s day so I always had it off until college when my private college didn’t give us the day off. It was terrible. lol
    Happy Birthday Fussypants!!

  2. Gingerbreadmama says:

    Thanks!! It’s nuts that they are turning 5. I went to Kindergarten Open House at the private school we hope he gets into and was all freaked out at first but after hearing about the program and talking to the teachers I want to enroll MYSELF!

    And I think birthdays should be a holiday for sure!

  3. Δεν είναι καθόλου έτσι. Το ΔΝΤ και οι ΗΠΑ εμφανίζονται επιτήδεια ως “καλοί” της υπόθεσης, ενώ η κρίση που προκάλεσαν στην Ελλάδα και στην Ευρώπη την προκάλεσαν καθαρά και μόνον αυτοί και προκλήθηκε από μόνη της, όπως ήθελαν να πείσουν ο Παπανδρέου και ο ÃŽÃÃŽŽÂ±ÃÂ€ÃŽÂ±ÃŽÂºÃÂ‰ÃŽÂ½ÂÂƒÃÂ„ Ã±Î½Ï„ίνου. Δες το εκτενές σχόλιό μου σε άλλο άρθρο.

  4. That’s an intelligent answer to a difficult question xxx

  5. Hej här är ännu en som smygkikat men sällan kommenterat. Du har ett fantastiskt hem! Jag är gärna med i utlottningen av fina julgranskulor.

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