He was born early, this one, perfectly slating his birthday into the 4th of July weekend forever, ensuring that his celebrations would always be extended and festive.
We took him home on July 3rd. When night fell on July 4th, we did what we always did in that apartment on 2nd Street in Park Slope, Brooklyn. We went upstairs to watch the fireworks.
He was very, very tiny.
We were very, very young.
His whole first year was one revelation after another, as we watched our baby with the little moon face, our tiny Charlie Brown, slowly morph into a person.
And now, well, now he's six. He's long and lean and tan. The girls at school are already giggling over him. He loves to crack jokes, and dotes on his littlest sister. (He loves Riis, too, but they divide their time between playing and hitting each other.) He's proudly reading now, but still struggles with "hard" words. Lazy? Oh, yes, this one is lazy, but at least he's creative about it. He's got a 1,000 reasons at the ready if you ask him to do something he'd prefer not to do. (He's the orginal Bartelby.)
He's getting so big, so fast. But he still isn't too big to run over for a hug, or declare that he's going to marry me. I'm going to hold on to every day here for the next couple of years, because when this one is too cool for me, it's gonna break my heart.
Happy birthday, kiddo.
Bonus video: At the end of the night at Disneyland, we went to "ElecTRONica." Cole watched a circle of dancers for awhile, then decided to take his turn.
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