May 2016: 68 months (5 years and 8 months)

Dear Patrick,

• On Saturday 5/7, there was a swim assessment at Stone Lake Pool. “A test?” you asked. “Nah, not a test...it’s really more to show everyone that you aren’t scared of the water - just do the best you can,” we told you. At the pool, the crowd of parents and kids formed a semi-circle and listened to the coach explain how swimming the length of the pool, one child at a time, alone, as adults with clipboards made notes was, in fact, a test to determine which child would be on swim team, be a “guppy" or need basic lessons. The coach was quick to say there was no “failing” this “test," but he had used the words and in doing so, it brought parameters and anxiety - my own; not yours. I felt fear in my stomach as I saw you happily swing your feet and wait your turn on a bench in the back. Your dad and I watched the other kids - some made it, some did not - there were cheers and tears. You were one of the last to go. The water was brutally cold. And when you finally jumped in, you sank like a stone - maybe from the shock of the temperature or maybe because it had been a whole year without practice. But you popped up like a buoy and tried again. You moved forward in the water a few feet before turning to look for the side of the pool; your little arm stretched out to grab hold of the concrete. My heart sank. According to the coach when a swimmer touches the side, the test is over. I had heard another mother tell someone standing near me that she had taken her children to the Y to practice that morning and if I had thought of it, maybe I would have done the same...but I hadn’t. You pulled yourself up and out of the water and stood hunched over, letting the water run off. As I walked towards your wet, soggy, little half-moon of a body, I prepared the pep talk I would give you. I couldn’t see your eyes since you still had on your goggles and as I approached, you slid them to the top of your head.  “Well,” you said before I could say anything, “I did the best I could - just like you told me. I did GREAT.” You were proud of yourself. Yes you did, Patrick. Really, really great.
• You dropped a toy down the sink drain while your were suppose to be brushing your teeth on Wednesday morning 5/11, and I had to use pliers to remove it. “Please don’t drop your finger-laser lights down the sink again,” I said. And then wondered how often the obvious is said out-loud in this house.
• “Go brush your teeth,” your dad told you before bed one night. With an impish grin you said back, “Bo buffer beef.” I mean, that’s just plain funny.  
• Snowy the owl is a “Douglas toy,” which is a brand of stuffed animal. But now that you are starting to read and have discovered this tag, you believe Snowy’s actual name is Snowy Douglas Byrd. And we have to use her full name.
• Your Pop likes to send us articles. Ever the educator, Pop passes along information to help us grow and be more aware. The other day was a heartbreaking report about a group of college kids who were done with exams and on a road-trip, but they were killed in a car crash. It was so horrific, sudden and sad. It is almost paralyzing to think of you, Patrick, venturing into the world and making it your own -- not because I doubt your ability to make good choices or our ability to help steer you, but there is just so much out of our collective control.
• I heard you tell your dad, “I need my crossbow. I don’t know where it is...but will you just look all over for it?” Is it odd how much you believe we are here to serve your every whim, or the fact that your whim is for a crossbow?
• “You know why Bunky wears short sleeves,” you told me. “Because he has big muscles and if he wore long sleeves they wouldn’t fit.”
• Sonny was in town mid-month for a visit and there was trip the grocery store. Apparently, you asked to carry the bread, but you were denied this privilege by your father who cited efficiency concerns. On the way home, I was told that you said with a sarcastic tone, "well, I wanted to carry the bread but Mr. Snoopy Pants wouldn't let me." Uncle Sonny now calls your father Snoopy Pants. 
• You graduated from K4 on Thursday 5/19. When you accepted your certificate, you said loudly and clearly, “Thank you Mrs. Ginny” which made all the parents in the audience “ooh” and “awwe” at your politeness. There was a part of the program where the teacher asked each student what they wanted to be when they grew up. The kids answered the question with a single word profession, but you basically leaned into the mic and said, “Well, Debra, I’m glad you asked…” (Okay, not quite that formal but pretty close.) 
• On 5/30 we celebrated Memorial Day at your Biggie and Gangie's house with home-cooked ribs and corn on the cob, which you don't like (what kid doesn't like corn on the cob?!!) but at least tried. You painted and rode your razor scooter like a pro. The Stewarts and your great grandparents were there, and I was struck by how wonderful it is that you are growing up with so much family (and love) around you. 
• “Mom, can you stand at a bus stop with me and we ride a real bus one day - not a school bus - a real bus.” We were driving home and passed the bus stop at the corner of Chick Springs and Wade Hampton. I wanted to tell you that the Greenville public bus system is not quite as dreamy as you might think, but instead I just replied, “Absolutely - you and I are going to go on a lot of adventures together, Patrick.” And I can’t wait.