Trying to explain to Charlie that his party is today but his birthday is next Tuesday was too much, so, for all intents and purposes, he is five!
When he got his half of 4 1/2, he resisted for months. Only embraced that addition to his name a few weeks ago when Melody explained to him, "But Charlie! You can't get to five unless you have your 4.5 first! If you don't take your half, you'll never have a birthday again!"
This morning he declared himself to be "Five and a half, little" (which takes too much time to type, so I'm designating it 5.5L) and analyzed his 5.5L quite thoroughly with statements like, "I'm 5.5L and STILL FIT IN FOOTED JAMMIES!"
All morning long, he has been ready for his party. He keeps asking, "Will all the people in all the houses and all the stores come to my birfday party? Can I open my presents at my party? Can I open some now? What are my presents?"
The boy is on to this whole birthday gig.
He has afforded himself quite a few rights that I was not previously aware came with the 5.5L age status.
"Now dat I'm 5.5L, I get to steal a car. I get to steal da caw wif da gwown ups in it and dwive it to my birfday party. I have my imbisible license. It is wight here in my pocket, see? No, not dat pocket. It is folded in da udder pocket. Do you know what my license is made of? MARSHMALLOWS!"
I was not aware that marshmallows folded.
He's decided that his birthday means that he will get more Hot Wheels. I told him he is probably right about that, but we can't know until his party. He brought a Green Hot Wheels up to me and said, "I need to get more Hot Wheels at my birfday party because dis Hot Wheels needs a nudder Hot Wheels. It needs a Red Hot Wheels to love and to love him back."
If only love could be guaranteed for 97¢ at Wal*Mart.
He also informed me, "I hafta call Oma and tell her dat it is my birfday so she can be happy! I can dwive her car today!" Good choice, Charlie. Oma's classic Firebird is going to be a sweeter ride than PennyVann.
I gave him his birthday spankings this morning and his analysis was this, "Dat was okay, because it did not make me want to close my eyes and cwy. It made me giggle. But why can you touch my boo-tah-day on my birfday? Dat is where my poop is."
He shivers before pronouncing that to be "Yucky" then thinks a moment before asking, "You don't have to do dat next to my penis, right? Dat would not be good."
No, Charlie. We can add the car stealing and calling people to wish them a happy-my-birthday to the tradition list, but will let that one slide.