Now we are twelve

We have this lovely little book of poems by A. A. Milne called Now We Are Six. It was a gift for Fletcher’s 6th birthday. I’m sorry to say I have no idea who gave it to him, but I adore the book. It’s full of sweet little gems like this one:

“When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was nearly new.
When I was Three
I was hardly me.
When I was Four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five, I was just alive.
But now I am Six, I’m as clever as clever,
So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.”

But NOW, we are twice six. Now we are twelve. No one writes poems about twelve. Maybe they should. Because from what I can see so far, twelve is awesome.

Twelve seems to forget about schoolwork more often than I would like (and, let’s be honest, it forgets about things like bathing and wearing clean socks more often than I would like too.) Twelve can be sassy, and is pretty sure it knows everything. (Or at least more than you.) Twelve really wants to use swear words, but always asks permission first. Twelve is loud and frustrating a more than a little stinky, but it hasn’t outgrown morning hugs and bedtime kisses. Twelve has a wicked sense of humor and it’s friends can carry on hilarious conversations (you learn a lot driving carpool.) Twelve likes the same movies as you do, and is totally up for a Netflix binge. Twelve drinks coffee and sleeps in late and sends you emails from school. Twelve has its own YouTube channel. Twelve has seen some struggles – it knows it doesn’t always win, that there aren’t always happy endings. But it is still endlessly enthusiastic and eager and ready. For anything. For everything.

I miss sweet little six year old cheeks and that sweet little six year old voice and the simplicity of those long and lazy six year old afternoons. Twelve is complicated. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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