T Man 2016

Last month we celebrated our darling T Man turning 5. Five Years Old!

The last couple of years I sent an email to the people in his life who loved and nurtured him for a season (read: teachers and therapists). But now that the list is growing I have decided to post my annual update on my blog. My poor, neglected blog. At least this way it will have new words splash across it once a year.

T remains the most delicious ball of joy that I have ever known. He is full of love, mischief, compassion and silliness. It's an absolutely magical combination. I am very happy to report that his beauty is not merely visible to his mama. He won the Shine Award at his preschool last month, because his teacher sees him, too. He came home with allergy friendly sweets, stickers, and a coloring book. The Shine Award is an honor that exists throughout the school district to recognize students at each building who consistently demonstrate outstanding character. Later his teacher told me why he was chosen, "I nominated T because of his ability to brighten everyone’s day.  When he walks through that door, smiles light up.  Also, he doesn’t see differences in others.  He accepts people for who they are and loves them no matter what.  He exhibits great character every day." Her words made one of his parents cry, and it's not the one you would expect.

T and his phenomenal teachers celebrating the Shine Award.

T-Man is flourishing in pretty much every area of life. He is beginning to construct complete sentences. He is starting to engage with his peers in more meaningful play. He hops, skips and jumps. He sometimes stays in line without having his hand held (woot!) He still loves cuddles. He is continuing in his pursuit to memorize every book we own. He has started using a fork to eat his applesauce at bedtime. T loves school and school loves him right back. He has fine tuned his maniacal laugh. Most of his doctors see him just once a year now. His haircut screams have reduced by a solid 25%. T goes to OT once a week, PT once a month and Speech once a week. He has developed the balance and strength to stand in the front window sill and lick the window. He only calls Mommy by Daddy's name half the time. T loves, loves, loves Dusty Crophopper. He looks amazing in footie pajamas. In short, he is a dream boat.

He's also a good brother. To talk about T's life without mentioning his siblings is to speak of the ocean whilst ignoring the beach. They are all intertwined.  

T, Big N and Dusty

Big N is in third grade now. We're still homeschooling because I'm harebrained and he's thriving. He is currently planning his adulthood and has settled on being a professional baseball player, paleontologist and stay-at-home dad. Big N has conveyed his approval of our parenting by stating his intention to send his future-child-with-special-needs to the same schools, therapists, and healthcare providers that we use. He is a patient teacher as he conveys all manner of lessons to his siblings and teaches M and I how to parent an eight year old. 

T and AB

AB is my splash of sparkle amidst the pile of boys. She is a delightful bundle of paradoxes: rough-and-tumble and gentle, unflappable and dramatic, innocent and mischievous, Mama's girl and Daddy's girl. She collects rocks and purses. Buzz Lightyear never had his diaper changed until she came around. She loves being barefoot, but if she must wear shoes she strongly prefers sparkly ones. If I had all the girls in the world to pick from, I would chose her as my daughter. 

T and Baby N

Baby N is a delightful, squishy baby. He laughs heartily when we blow raspberries on his tummy. His countenance lights at the sight of his siblings. He hates tummy time. He insists on sucking his left thumb, rather than the five different types of pacifiers we have offered him. He has slept through the night a handful of times. Baby N is a Mama's boy and I have no intentions of changing that. 

If this little update makes you smile to read it, as it made me smile to write it, then join me in thanking God for such a lovely life.

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.