This is something I have to remind myself of often. All of the kids in Lex’s class are five, all of his other “friends” (in other words, my friends with kids his age) are five, and I tend to think of Lex as five as well. I know he isn’t, but sometimes I think he is. In fact, I had an embarrassing moment at the playground the other day when I was pushing Eve on the swing and chatting with some guy. He asked how old she was and then how old Lex is. I said, “My son is five,” and Eve quickly said, “Mommy, Lex isn’t five, he’s FOUR!” Of course, silly me.

Eve, of course, isn’t five. We all know that. But I often have to remind myself of that fact when I am getting very annoyed with her because she won’t sit still for Sorry (ages 6 and up!), or when she is dawdling in front of the neighbor’s house while Lex is on his bike at the end of the street already. I find myself hurrying her along more than I should and expecting her to keep up with a five year old (oops, four!) when she is really just barely three.

Note to self… my children are not five!