He's a bit quieter now, but just as whip-smart. He looks at you a little less with his eyeballs and a little more through his eyelashes, and the toes of his big-kid shoes knock together sometimes when he walks. He can pump so hard the swing set tips, these days, but just because he is the Big Brother and the Firstborn doesn't mean there can't still be some heartbreak when the insides of the sandwich hit the floor.
Alex has an affinity for too-small pajamas, thermal even in the dead of summer, and hair that won't sit down ever. He's just a little afraid of hair washing, but it's nothing that can't be cured by having a toilet-perched shower audience. He can't pay attention to his dinner plate for anything.
His "do you wanna see me"s have become "I wanna show you something"s, a sure sign that times, they are a changing. I'm not "Taydee" anymore, but that's OK by me.
Tomorrow, he goes to kindergarten, and I don't think kindergarten is going to know what hit it. Have fun, Alex. You're going to learn to read and tie, I promise.