gunns and roses: MacAlister is 5

Oh my wonderful, smart, crazy 5 year old boy,

You are the sweetest, most loving little tough guy I've ever known. I am your mother, so of course I am biased, but I'm not sure there ever was a more perfect combination of all things kind and masculine.

You're a lot like your dad.

You love your family. Truly. Gunn family rules, Gunn family games, Gunn family teams, Gunn family sports ... everything is better when we are a team. You love being together, You love each one of us; you are tender to me, you are intent on teaching your sister the ways of the world, and you worship your father. I hope you always are interested in us, because we surely are interested in you.

Your brain is so impressive to me. You are the most logical five year old I have ever met. You love numbers and patterns; from the time you were tiny, before you were ever talking, you were organizing things by color and shape. You've known letters and numbers since you were tiny, and you currently practice with Belle more than I do to help her get them down as well. You are only just now acknowledging that pretend is a fun way to play, but you are always sure to specify. "Mom, we are playing a game about good guys and bad guys. But it's just pretend, they really aren't real bad guys. They are pretend bad guys. It's not real" Got it, buddy.

I love your logic; if I can collect my thoughts and explain something in enough detail to you, you are satisfied. Now whining, no fighting, nothing. If it makes sense in your head, you are totally good to go.

My boy, your heart is made of gold. Your worries are about people you love. Will our family be safe? Will we all continue to grow like we ask for every night in our prayers? You cried when you killed a cricket and you cried when we buried your pet fish Pujols. It was the sweetest thing.

You love dogs and all animals ... except for cats. They made you very very itchy once, and you decided you'd never like to be around another one again. That's okay, I don't want you around them either.

You are an incredible eater. With Dad or I over your shoulder, you'll eat anything. But even on your own, you love vegetables and fruit and meat. Cucumbers, carrots, celery, and broccoli are always at the top of your list. As in you will choose them first on a dinner plate full of options. But no potatoes ... unless they're french fries.

You love having a job to do. You don't often just play, unless there are lots of cousins or friends around to set up some ideas. But otherwise, you like structure. You love having chores, helping me measure ingredients when I cook, timing how long it takes to do anything, counting trucks as we drive, and teaching Belle how to play Candy Land and Perfection. Sometimes you end up fighting because she likes to make up rules, while you want her to play the right way. But more often than not I hear you say things like, "Good job Belle. You're figuring it out."

Your favorite shows are "Paw Patrol", "American Ninja Warrior", "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" (early 90's version that Dad bought for you online), and secretly ... you love to watch "My Little Pony". Sometimes you'll come home from school and say, "Belle! Do you want to watch 'My Little Pony'? Oh Mom, she does! I'm turning it on!" Okay, Buddy.

You love watching all sports, especially if Dad lets you stay up late to finish a game and tickles your feet while you cheer for your favorite team. (If it's not baseball, you usually pick whatever team is red.)

You enjoy them all, and I've been so impressed with every little sport you've come across. Basketball, soccer, running ... you're quite the athlete, but more than that, you love the competition. You love to win, but even better ... you love to improve.

And improve you do. When Dad tells you to change something in your swing, you do it. When your coach asks you to aim for the left side of the goal, you do. When Aunt Heidi tells you to speed up, the finish line is close ... you do it.

I love your intent to be better.

But you especially love to get better at baseball. In fact, your fifth birthday party was a baseball party at Nana and Bumpa's with all your family ... just as you requested.

Baseball cake

Giant hot dogs for dinner

Eating on bleachers is awesome ... don't believe Uncle Mike.

Cousin Olive loves olives ... how fitting.

Possibly one of my favorite parts of the evening was the minor fit you threw when Aunt Rachel's friend picked you up. You were TRYING to make a play. Dad threw you the ball, and because you were picked up you could not get to the ball and tag her out. You stomped off the field in a fury. Dad went and talked to you, and we continued to play. It didn't take long before you decided that even though you were still mad, you just couldn't miss the opportunity to play ball with your whole family. But NO PICKING PEOPLE UP ALLOWED.