Uses BOTH hands.

Last week at the beach, my brother-in-law remarked that my older son, The Big One, is a bit cautious. A little less likely to jump aboard the new and unfamiliar. Not as daring as his little brother. A little more content to sit and watch.

"He's his mother," I replied.

And all the while The Short One is gunning about in the surf using the YELLOW KEY in the "ski jet," which the adult males tell me will raise the rig "RIGHT STRAIGHT UP OUT OF THE WATER, DUDE," life vest tightly fastened, black,mirrored shades securely in place, hair flying and teeth gritted and bared, I know as only a mommy knows that The Short One is also a sensitive one.

He is the one who early in his years could sense conflict and sadness, and cared not a single bit for any child being separated from his mother. This made watching "Finding Nemo" especially painful. And sparked older-than-his-years commentary during that scene in "Curious George" when George is taken away and the MITBYH thinks after him and all they shared ... "He misses he, Mommy."

This is the observant soul who notices my new purse. My new toenail polish. My new haircut. And likes them.

This is the child who loves a crowd, but loves nothing more than having his big brother's full attention.

This is the boy who might not always remember a person's name in a speedy manner, but can describe them so that we all understand ... "Funny Mommy." "The Lady with the Horn." And "The Girl with the Pool."

This is the boy who loves the ice cream truck. But not as much as his Daddy's milkshakes.

This is the boy who will rise early to fish with his dad and ask to "do that EVERYday." The is one for whom the party never ends.

The Short One? The one who points out the homeless man on the street and offers up ways to help him. An umbrella for when it's hot. A raincoat for when it's wet. An electric fan. Wood to build a house.

This is the fella who cries mightily when he thinks his dog is hurt. And lives in fear that she will be.

This is the one who can just as fiercely grab a bare-footed, sticky adventure as he can your heart. With both hands.

"Mommy, can I ever rearrange my birthday? You know, make it so I can have one every day?"

Happy 6th Birthday to The Short One. That's 1.2.3.4.5.6. Using both hands.

We can't count all the ways we love you.

***

The groovy thing about that picture of The Short One is that it was taken by a friend of mine. She shot it while we were posing children at a place where we volunteer ... a safe place for recently homeless moms and kids ... and she clicked away at MY child to put the others at ease. In the end, we used that shot of MY dirty-faced baby in promotional literature and videos, MEANING ... like I hope my kids understand by now ... THOSE PEOPLE look a whole lot like us.