Yesterday, I had the most delightful conversation with my favorite five year old on the planet. Five is such a special age; but this little boy takes my breath away. When he was three, he drew me a picture chock full of golden yellow scribbles. I asked him what he called his picture and he said, “Luck. It’s for you.” It hangs on my refrigerator to this day.


M: So do you want me to tell you something?

Me: Sure!

M: I love birds.

Me: Really? (You can see what a witty conversationalist I am here!)

M: Yes. I love wild birds and pet birds. . .

Me: So, you love all birds, then.

M: Well, no. Not the dead ones. The dead ones make me sad.


Me: So what is your favorite bird, M?

M: Oh, I don’t think I have a favorite.

Me: I’m very fond of Ravens, myself. And I like Hummingbirds, too.

M: I just don’t see how they survive on only sugar water. It can’t be very good for them.


M: You want me to tell you something?

Me: Sure!

M: I had a bad dream. I don’t know if it was a nightmare because I’ve never had nightmare in my entire life.

Me: What’s the difference between a nightmare and a bad dream?

M: Well, my bad dream had Harry Potter and Hermione in it. But none of the teachers. And Ron was not there either. Just Harry and Hermione.

It’s good to be five. It’s even better to be asked, “So, do you want me to tell you something?”