The pirate Novina, captain of the black ship The Great Over. Arr, mateys!
So, hey. I have a five year old. My kid, Sarah? Yeah, she's five. Five years old. Five.
I figure if I just keep repeating those and similar thoughts, eventually it will sink in, or make sense, or somehow be a part of my reality.
I mean, five. That's a real kid. Not a toddler, not a preschooler. A kid.
She's gotten so interesting and creative and amazing. She writes books (the last one was titled "No, Said The Parrot" -- wouldn't you totally buy a book with a name like that?). She conducts what she calls food science experiments. She's starting to read. She loves anything even vaguely science-y. She wants to be a paleontologist-cowgirl-astronaut-lion tamer when she grows up.
Which is what she keeps doing. Because now she's five.