Last night you went to bed crying because you didn't want to turn 6. You wanted to stay little. To stay 5. I held you, like I do every night, waiting for your breathing to change. "Will you cover me when you leave?" You ask every night. "Of course." I say, every night. Once you hear that, you let yourself relax and drift to sleep. It takes you about 3 minutes. So many nights your dad or I find ourselves sleeping, curled around your body like we have for the past 6 years. You are Oliver, our snuggler. Our comforter. Our squishy kid who has always wanted to be small and in our laps, though you came out big you have always been in our our laps. You want to be able to stay up with your own light, reading like your big brother, but you want us to be wrapped around you as you fall asleep more. "When will I be OK going to sleep by myself?" you ask. "I don't know," I say. "I think I will when I'm 8." "OK, I'll be here until you are 8 then."
This morning you woke, came into our bed, gave hugs, kisses, and snuggles and fell back asleep. A couple hours later, "Can I go see Mike and Nana?" "Of course," I say. You ran over to their camper, climbed into their bed and after a bit when Austin joined you, you snuggled him and claimed it was the best birthday present ever to be able to rub his fuzzy head. You love his soft hair. You love him. You plan everything with him. If he is vanilla, you are chocolate. If he is Batman, you are Green Lantern. If he is a scientist, you are his side kick.
You ride your big wheel everywhere. You hate that we have to walk the dogs in the morning, but you don't mind it if you are on a big wheel. You will hitch their leash to your handle bar and take them anywhere.
You are reading. You read everything. "What is win-dex?" you ask. You sound out license plates and convince yourself those are words. You love Pete the Cat books and think his little adventures are funny. You have changed the spelling of your name from "Ollie" to "Oli" because you care about such things.
You love being surrounded by friends and you constantly want "buddies" at the playground. You are drawn to boys as playmates but have tons of questions about girls. You are the gentlest player on the playground, constantly waiting for turns or to let the little ones go by, but at the same time you think of yourself as "too rough" and ask when you will be gentle. I want to point out how you are gentle. How the feel of your kiss as you stop to come say hi is one of the kindest things you do. The way you handle bugs and hold them without squishing them is gentle. I find you curled into the dog beds with them or lying in the grass with them stroking their ears and my heart goes soft looking at the scene. Your hands still have dimples and when you put your hand in mine, it is still so gentle to hold. Your feelings are gentle and you always are the first to thank me for a meal, a toy, or a nice time out. "Thank you for taking us here!" is something I will never tire of hearing.
You are the first to brush your teeth in the morning and your bed is always "almost" made with the covers pulled up, but crooked and the pillow askew as you don't mind when Dakota climbs in throughout the day. "I like the smell of dogs," you say as you try to straighten your pillow, but somehow it looks worse. You still have a collection of odd ends in your bed along with a stack of books and you just kind of sleep around these things as you like having them nearby.
You went to bed crying last night, but this morning you woke up laughing. You told Austin about how you were sad as you giggled through the story, because that is you. You have lows, but by far, you have highs. You find the funny in almost every situation. You are our family's smile.
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