Every day when we drop M off at school, T has to tell the teachers that "I am big." If he forgets to tell them he gets really upset. He's pretty much obsessed with being "big." He wants us to know that he is NOT a baby.
Most recently he has been requesting that we call him, "Daddy." Not because he wants to take J's place, but because big guys must be called "Daddy." We usually oblige. Someday I'm sure he'll come up with a nickname that we might not be so crazy about. :)
(T helping Pop because he's a "Big Guy.")
M went to a Karate birthday party this weekend. She was SO nervous about it. For the first half she just sat on my lap--she was not so sure about all of the "hi-yah's" and kicks (which I thought were pretty cool). The shyness continued until it was time to run in a "run-away-from-the-ball" game. That girl is a runner (not an ounce of that comes from me)! She even won! Then after chopping a board with her bare arm and catching candy from the pinata she is pretty much a karate-loving kid. ;)
On a sentimental note, on the way home from the party she asked me what it must feel like to die. I asked her why she was asking me that? She said, "Because life just keeps going and going and going and going and I figure that I've already lived some of my life." Deep thinker, that precious 5-year-old girl. Love you, M!