Dear Jack,

The first thing I thought when I woke up today was that you are five. FIVE. That means it was one whole hand ago that I walked into your delivery room, commandeered the video camera, and proceeded to document your birth. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life. As your mom and dad were falling in love with you, I was falling in love with you, too.

You had giant eyes and even bigger cheeks, and you were absolutely perfect. I didn’t stay long after you were born. I wanted to give you three some privacy. Or rather, I should say I wanted to stay and stare at you forever, but it felt like I should give you some privacy. I drove home and walked up two flights of stairs to where Scarlett was asleep in her crib. I told Uncle Rob everything about you. Everything about your brave and incredible mama and your rockstar dad. I told him how it felt to watch someone come into the world and to know that they are quite suddenly one of the most important people you will ever know.

Fast-forward five trips around the sun and I feel so lucky that I’m still in your life. This year, Uncle Rob and I took you and Scarlett to the movies two times. We saw Moana (everyone loved it) and The Boss Baby (you declared that it was just okay.) You held the armrest of my wheelchair as we rolled into the theater for the first time. When I told you that Uncle Rob was getting popcorn, you hugged me tightly, giddy with the novelty of the situation. The four of us hadn’t gone on many outings together up to that point, and it felt really special to me. To all of us, I think. And when Uncle Rob brought back not only popcorn, but also chocolate candy, forget about it. We had the best time, and totally ruined our dinners.

Our little family of seven gets together for dinner every Sunday. One weekend earlier this year, your mom and I decided to skip it. I think you were sort of getting sick, and Scarlett was probably exhausted, and it just seemed like a good idea to take the night off. At 6:30 PM, Uncle Rob, Scarlett and I walked into one of our favorite Italian restaurants in the city, and there you were, at our favorite table. Everyone cracked up, and we joined you, stretching your family’s meal well past its intended limit. When we said goodbye and headed our separate ways, I’m told that you announced from the back seat, “Well, that was a special night!” Just your average Sunday, but the prospect of not being together made being together that much better.

You are starting kindergarten in August. This is pretty thrilling to everyone who knows you, because you love school. You love learning, and sharing what you know. You are already reading on your own, and you’ve told me that your favorite part of preschool is your “lessons.” I can’t wait to hear what you think of kindergarten. You are going to make so many new friends, as you always do. You are someone who participates, who loves to make people laugh. Other kids gravitate to you. I guess they can see what I have always seen. That you are kind, and fun, and brave, and hilarious.

This morning, Scarlett and I Facetimed you to sing happy birthday and to hear your thoughts on waking up and being five.

“Mom!” Scarlett yelled at me, “You are screaming in my ear!”

“I’m excited,” I explained, unapologetically.

Tonight we will celebrate your birthday at another Italian restaurant. I’ll try not to scream, but Jack, I’m still excited. For you, about you, and on behalf of everyone who will get to know you as you continue to grow. You are my best boy, and I see many many great times ahead. Happy birthday, Quackers!

I love you so much,
Ra-Ra

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