August 2016: 71 months (5 years and 11 months)

Dear Patrick,

• The Richards came to town and stayed across the street. We had so much fun: meals, puzzles, and a week long play date for all of us that I hoped would never end.
• The first day of real school was Tuesday 8/16 and I had no idea how “social” the world was at 7:30am in the morning. As we walked up the hill, friends passed with hands waving from car windows while other families in the neighborhood joined us on the sidewalks - dogs, skateboards and baby strollers in tow. It was like the Summit Drive Elementary Norman Rockwell parade.
• I remind you to have “an attitude of gratitude” more often than I care to admit this month.
• The second day of real school, we met the famous Mordecai Fink and his mother Anna. When she introduced herself, I had to resist the urge from saying, “Oh wow - can I take your picture to show my husband?” 
• Tennis started back this month, so you get a weekly date with Biggie.
• I love your sense of justice. Over dinner on 9/21 you explained how a boy named Hayden should have forgiven you after you said you were sorry, but instead this kid apparently “punched you in the neck.” Sometimes, in real school, a sorry just doesn’t cut it and there are throat punches instead.
• For the first Show-and-Tell of school on Friday 8/19, you brought Elephant. I asked what you’d say about him and you explained: “This is my Elephant. He has a broken tail and a small mouth so he has to take tiny bites. He is from New York - no, actually Africa.” And then with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth you said, “You know all elephants come from Africa.”
• “Mom, how ‘bout we hold hands so I don’t drift back,” you said on a walk to school. I like watching your vocabulary grow and “drift” is a memorable addition.  
• We asked you to take a bite of mashed potatoes during Sunday’s dinner on 9/21 and you leaned in towards your father and said, “Can I tell you something? When I eat food and it’s too squishy like this in my mouth, it makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up...and then it goes away.” Your face was so serious it was hard not to laugh when we told you to eat the mashed potatoes.
• The newsletter from school said you were working on “sight words,” which this week are colors: red, blue, yellow, orange and green. I wrote the words on note cards and your dad held them up for you  over dinner. Helping you study for your first “test” - seemed monumental to me; the first of many flash-card study aids to come.
• “Mom, they have a store at school,” you told me the morning of 9/22. I mimicked your excitement and told you to save your money. “Oh, I have lots of money - I’m gonna just bring in my dinosaur bank and BUY IT ALL.” (Make it rain, son.)
• You will occasionally ask if you can take my earrings out and you do it so carefully and kindly. 
• Casey and Molly Ingram came to visit the last weekend of the month and you two were fast friends. We ate lunch at Nosedive, ice cream at Spill the Beans, played “Sorry” in your PJs, had a spend-the-night party, made cinnamon rolls for breakfast and you two threw pennies into every fountain we passed downtown. I don’t know Molly’s wish, but I heard you whisper with eyes closed “lizard” each time. (You know that your life is good when your only wish is for a lizard!) And as luck would have it, your dad saw a reptile show advertised in the newspaper that following Sunday and we went. So you got to see your lizard after all. Wishes do come true.

July 2016: 70 months (5 years and 10 months)

Dear Patrick,

• The upside of a 16 year old beagle on July 4th is that he cannot hear fireworks.
• We thought we left Elephant at Southern Culture on 7/6 when we went there to celebrate Big Mitchell’s birthday. Elephant, however, was hiding in the back of your father’s car and, of course, we didn’t realize until after your dad had already driven back to the restaurant, talked to the waitress and sent out an APB on that rascal.
• On Friday 7/8 you wanted to wear a button down shirt and long pants to school. “Is there something special going on today,” we asked. “No, I just want to look handsome for my class.” You had me comb your hair over with water. When you got home from school that day, you asked if I’d put on a dress so we could go on a date. “We’ll go dancing and you can pick,” you told me. (Where did you learn this line?!) We ended up at Sidewall Pizza downtown and we let Dad be the third wheel.
• You fake burp so much that we had to tell you to please stop fake burping.
• Hair on your legs amazes you - “my legs look like Dad’s legs!”
• The Gergheteys came to visit this month and stayed across the street.
• You like to dance standing on my feet while we hold hands.
• You got a fat lip at school from sitting with your knees and arms inside your shirt in a chair and your face broke your fall since you did not have any appendages to help stop yourself.
• “Patrick, why don’t you change your shirt before we go out to dinner,” your dad asked. And you said, “Why don’t you change your pants!” and made yourself laugh so hard that even I thought it was funny.
• “Epic fail” I heard you tell Rivers over a play-date.

June 2016: 69 months (5 years and 9 months)

Dear Patrick,

• I want to remember your handwriting at this age: your “c” are not rounded - they are boxes missing the right side. Also, the “tail” on your lowercase “a” is on the left, not the right. When we point this out to you, you say, “but I like it that way.”
• As I was washing dishes, I watched through the kitchen window as you and JP carefully put “pop-its” under each tire of my car. You both brought your hands to your mouth and laughed conspiratorially like the cartoon cat in Tom & Jerry. Later that day when I moved my car, there was a loud pop.
• I like hearing you sing and hum to yourself when you are alone in the playroom or brushing your teeth.
• You asked me as we were driving home from school one day, “Do you know the movie Frozen?” I answered, “Of course - remember when you were little and we use to dance and sing parts of the movie?” You were quiet and then said, “Well, I do not dance anymore - - only to rock and roll.”
• “Mom, don’t rub Dad’s legs,” you whispered to me as I was getting out of bed one morning. You didn’t want me to wake him - you wanted to snuggle him all to yourself. It was sweet. Then, the very next morning, you apparently said to your father after I had already left the room, “Dad, are you going to work? Go take a shower!” You said this just so you could play your father’s iphone games by yourself. And apparently you spent all your father's "gold" without his permission.
• We watched the movie “Zootopia” this month and I loved how you laid on me, belly to belly and your head on my chest. Later that night, you said the dart gun part was a little scary but we “turned it around” so you could sleep.
• I read to you the handwritten letter that I sent to a friend whose father was diagnosed with the end stages of cancer and was going to die. I knew that was a little heavy for a five year old and that you wouldn't really be able to take that all in, but I want to make you aware of the struggles of others.
• Your father had an epic birthday. One word: limo.
• It is now a Father’s Day tradition with the Satterfields that we have celebrated two years in a row at the lake.
• You are 45.5 inches tall and 39 pounds, which was confirmed at the doc-in-the-box on Sunday 6/26. We spent 3 hours there (uugghh!) and finally left with antibiotic for your sore throat. (I did like the game we made up called "hot-potato-elephant," which we played to pass the time.) We rewarded your patience and ours with a trip to Yogurt Mountain.
• Omi and Pop waited an extra day in Greenville to make sure you were feeling okay and then they took you (and your medicines) to back to Macon for camp. Your Dad and I came down that next week to visit and pick you up.
• While in Macon, you took a swim lesson every day at the Wellness Center. We got a video of you swimming the length of the pool alone multiple times - very impressive. Omi also took a particularly funny video of you talking about a cow...
• When you were at camp, your father and I realized we had a lot more time in the morning since we didn’t have to say 500 times: “Patrick, eat your oatmeal. Patrick, brush your teeth. Patrick, get dressed. Patrick, why aren’t you dressed?”

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.

April 2016: 67 months (5 years and 7 months)

Dear Patrick,

• On the first of April, I had the idea to re-locate the popsicles from the front freezer to the back, and leave an empty box for you to find as a joke. “Let’s tell him that we ate them all,” your dad offered as my co-conspirator, but ultimately we decided that was maybe taking it too far - we didn’t want to be mean; we just wanted to be funny on April Fools Day. In truth, I never really "get" this day, and trying to explain it to you earlier that morning was like the blind leading the blind. A day that gives permission to deliberately trick, lie or fool another - why is this appealing? “Oh, it's harmless - it gives you a chance to laugh at yourself,” a friend told me later, which is fine, I guess, for adults who have a sense of self. But to possibly make a child upset by doubting what they know to be true - it’s just not for me - especially after this experience. As soon as we shouted “April Fools,” into your sad, little face, I knew this was wrong. You tried to smile, but I could tell you were upset. We tricked you - your own parents! We had never done this before. You were disappointed, embarrassed... and then you got mad. You clenched your hand into a little fist and out of pure frustration, you hit my leg. It didn’t hurt, of course, and I actually wasn’t sure if you too were just joking, but your father saw the intent on your face, and all of a sudden, we had another problem. “Don’t you ever hit a woman - I don’t care how mad you are,” your dad said while directing you to sit in the corner. There were a lot of tears and ultimately some good lessons learned for all three of us: respect, self control, mutual kindness, trust is sacred, forgiveness is important, and above all: don’t f&% with your dessert.    
• You read the words: “nip,” “bug” and “tot” off a worksheet from school - you are getting really good at sounding out letters to make words. (You did, however, tell me that “F is for vagina,” so there is more work to do.)
• On Sunday 4/3 you threw the Harry Potter wand that the Cordell family gave you into the trash because apparently Millie had said that it wasn’t real. You explained to me with tears in your eyes, “It’s true - it doesn’t really make spells.” So, I told you that it’s magical as long as you believe in it, and that I believe in magic. I wanted to keep the wand. I’m not ready to let you give up on magic.
• Trying to remember what you had for lunch yesterday, you said, “Hmm... let me read the book in my mind.”
• Big Mitchell enrolled you in tennis lessons on Saturday mornings at 8:30am. He got you the greatest Air Jordan warm up suit! I’m not sure about your skills, but you do look the part.
• More exciting than Santa or the Tooth Fairy, are the “bathroom elves,” who you believe come out of a tiny hole where the tile meets the tub. You told me with a tone of dreamy wonder that you hoped to get to see one.
• All of a sudden this month you are into coloring. You asked to finish a piece of work that you started at school and I had to dig the crayons out of the bottom of the art box where they were banished over Christmas. It’s like a flip switched and you are now a crayola Picasso.
• Pollen kicked up and you began to cough - the kind that we couldn’t help even with extra nebulizer treatments. So the doctor put you on two inhalers for a week this month and we seem to be back to normal.
• Your father officiated the marriage of our friends Matt and Holley Owings this month in Pawley’s Island and he did a great job. You stayed in Greenville with Gangie and Big Mitchell, but you would of been real proud of him - I was.
• You use all the shampoos in the shower to wash yourself. If we aren’t paying careful attention you use ALL. OF. THEM.
• You are hungry this month - like nothing we’ve ever seen before. You ate a whole banana in the hallway on the way to brush your teeth before bed.
• We made a trip to Macon to visit “The Big House” museum and benefit dinner, a gift from Omi and Pop to your Dad. You had your own fun too: you played with Abby Grace, a play date set-up and the two of you solved treasure maps that Omi made. (Clever Omi!) You had dinner downtown (Tom joined), played baseball with Pop, milkshakes galore and “bought” games on Omi’s phone. So when the fun came to an end that Sunday morning, you were naturally sad to leave. And when we wouldn’t let you play the ipad, you pouted. “Patrick, you are unhappy - I hear you - but we are not changing our minds: there will be no ipad right now. It would be more fun to move on and enjoy the morning, but if you must pout - do it in the next room.” And you did. You threw yourself on the couch - you are so tall now that you took up most of it. You laid dramatically head-down into the pillows for almost 40 mins of nothing. No toys, no other people - your own banishment. Eventually you did come back into the room (with a smile no less) and asked for granola. Hunger won. But oh, what a tortured life you lead sometimes - the struggle within.
• You pick out your clothes most school mornings, but the striped shorts paired with the long-sleeved striped shirt and striped socks on 4/28 has been my favorite ensemble this month.
• Your Dad’s new hummingbird guitar arrived in a box big enough for you to stretch out and fit inside, and you asked to be shipped to Oklahoma.
• “Mom, don’t wake Dad up yet - I want a lot of snuggle time with him.”

March 2016: 66 months (5 years and 6 months)

 Dear Patrick,

• This month started with the throw-ups and your stomach bug held us captive the entire day of Saturday March 5th. You hated throwing up (every 40 mins like clock-work), but you seemed to like the Pedialyte rocket popsicles we made, which was helpful. On Sunday you were back to normal and we celebrated with a hike in the fresh air outside Travelers Rest. Tandum for lunch and a game of Connect Four outside at the Swamp Rabbit Brewery made for a nice weekend after all.
• On Tuesday March 8th, I picked you up from school and you said, “I’ve got lots of love to share - its never runs out - just goes pop, pop, pop right in my heart.”
• It was Maeve Satterfield’s third birthday on Friday 3/11 and our families celebrated at Sidewall pizza and ice cream after. We rode home all together in the Satterfield van and you three laughed at the Winnie the Pooh movie playing on the monitor. I wish the trip home was 2 hours long - it was a lot of fun. We have a nice joint family photo together from that evening.
• “If you get a ticket,” you explained to me from the backseat as we drove home from school, “then you have to pay America.”
• At the “Donuts for Dad” event at school, you gave your father a survey you filled out (with your teacher) that told us that your father is 70 years old and likes to work in the yard.
• “Mom, do you want to be President one day,” you asked me. Sure I replied. “Well, you just have to believe and then you are,” you said with an easy shrug.
• After an (accurate) discussion on ages, you observed: “It’s kinda weird: you are smaller than dad but you are bigger [in age] than dad.”
• You had your first airplane flight on Thursday 3/24 as we traveled to Oklahoma to visit Uncle Jono, Aunt Jen and cousin Jack. As soon as the plane lifted into the air, you let out a huge belly laugh. You laughed so hard, the whole plane laughed with you. And when the plane landed, the pilot let you sit in his seat and push buttons on the dashboard. After that amazing experience, I found it interesting that you wanted to “work security” when you grew up. You said this so loudly that one of the TSA agents bent down as we made our way through the line to say, “aim higher, kid.”  
• We had a great time in Oklahoma: you and Jack played together and with all the other kids on the street, who ran in and out of the house like the stars of a sitcom show. There were great meals, the Easter Bunny left huge baskets, pancakes were made, candy was shared, bedtime was relaxed, and there were trips to play video games and to drink icies. You did manage, at one point, to turn on the upstairs treadmill, which sucked your shirt into the belt leaving a scar, but now you have a cool scar (and an odd story!)
• Seeing your eyes darken and tire one night in Oklahoma, I pulled you away from the fun and put you into the bathtub to make a transition towards bed. You were not happy. You could hear the others still laughing in the next room and you said with a tired scowl, “Mom, I do not love you.” And just in case those choice words didn’t communicate your utter disappointment, you declined a hug and kiss too. The next morning, the very first thing you did was climb into our bed and whisper in my ear, “you know I do love you.” Yep, I know, buddy - never doubted for a moment. 
  
  
   

February 2016: 65 months (5 years and 5 months)

Dear Patrick,

• “Mom, come in here. I want to show you something. It will amaaaaze you.”
• Apparently if you throw rocks at school on the playground (even by accident) and Ms Qua mentions it to your Uncle Bunky when he picks you up, it will NOT be “a gum kinda day.”
• You have “singing pants." Opening the multiple zippers on the khaki corduroy pants, allows each pocket to sing - and each zipper pocket makes a different sound. “This is my Base pocket...trumpet...banjo,” I heard you tell your dad. You are like a one man polka band. Sometimes a random shirt pocket might make a sound, but its those pants that really sing.
• You are all of a sudden noticeably taller this month.
• We finished reading the first Harry Potter book on Valentine’s Day and watched the first movie. You loved it! When you asked for book # 2, I drove straight to Barnes and Noble to get it even though it was raining and cold and we were fighting 5 o'clock traffic. You may not get every toy or sweet you want, but books are another story. I will go on record right now to say that you may have every book your heart desires.
• It was a grandparent sleepover on 2/14, which worked out great because your Dad and I had a lovely dinner together (with Bunky too!), and you got to be with your Biggie Valentine.
• “This spell has unicorn skin and orange juice,” you said out-loud as your finger ran down the full text pages of a book that you took off your Dad's nightstand. You sat on the bathroom floor outside the shower door and concentrated on your spells. You looked so cute in your PJs, hunched over the pages with your knees pulled in close to balance all the magic.
• I have picked you up from school maybe twice this month - Michael has gotten you every day! This means that you are on a first name basis with the waitress at the Soda Shop.
• While you are in our shower at night, you like to assemble Close Encounter-like structures out of the various soaps and shampoo bottles. The next morning, I find myself deconstructing your art to put everything back on the shelves.  
• You rock that red turtle-neck like a mini Steve Jobs.
• On Monday 2/22 we hosted a fun happy hour for Michael across the street at his house and paid the Cordell twins to watch nine children (ages 2-7) across the street at our house. “Mom, I was the only one who listened,” you reported later that evening. Poor Kylie and Griffin.
• The Howells took you to Bingo night at Summit Elementary on 2/26 and Austin sent us texts and photos of you walking right up to the stage asking the teachers how it all worked and even pulled the numbers! “No fear,” Austin said. You are gonna own that school in the Fall.
• At the end of the month, Omi and Pop came back to Greenville to hug Michael before he left for DC for his French language training. Don’t worry - you got a lot of attention too: many a chess match was played with Pop and many a “recipe” (combining different juices in the house, which only Omi has the patience to do with you!) was made.
• When your Dad picked you up from school on 2/29, your class was listening to music and you said to him, “I wish mom was here - she would of loved that song.” Your dad asked why in particular and you shrugged saying, “...well, it’s beautiful...and she would of cried.”