Today he's five.
Today he's leaving behind another year.
Today he's at an age where he could remember any day of his childhood from now on.
Today he wears a size 6.
Today I still love staring at his blue eyes.
Today his favorite things are the Wii, Wipeout, and Legos. And school. And not fruit or vegetables.
Today I can remember the moment he was born and the doctor told me he was a him. And I realized I had two hims and I laughed and cried at the same time.
Today I hope he never forgets how he kisses me on the arm for no reason. And when he's a smelly 10-year-old I hope I never forget how soft that feels.
Today he still crawls in bed with us at night. And burrows up next to me as if he hasn't seen me in a week.
(Today I wish we had a bigger bed.)
Today I'm surprised at something he did. I can say that this morning because I know it'll be true later on.
Today I realize that I thought I'd be teaching him, but he's the real teacher in our relationship.
Today, he's five.