Yesterday my first baby turned six. Joe and I will celebrate 10 years of marriage this July, and this guy has been a part of our family much longer now than he hasn't. Yesterday when I commented that it was his sixth birthday, he corrected me that it was actually his seventh if you count the day he was born. That's my oldest, always seeking accurate facts and never shy about correcting an adult.
And that's the battle with this one - what's rational trumps authority (unless of course it comes to his kindergarten teacher). His favorite story to be told is how when he was still in my womb, he'd plant his heels up under my ribs. I'd try to push them back down, and he'd push right back. Fortunately, this head-strong child is loving, still laughs with unrestrained squeals, is kind, empathetic and very affectionate. He always knows what I'm going to say when I lead with, "I have something to tell you..." "I know, Mom! You love me! That's what you always say." Don't tell him, but I just picked up a pack of multi-colored Sharpie pens just for him.